


Skuldalið

by goomy_is_love



Series: Skuldalið [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Iron Man 2, Shameless Smut, Smut, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 50,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3904621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goomy_is_love/pseuds/goomy_is_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sequel to 'It Ain't Easy Being a Stark." As Tony Stark's daughter, Erika is used to stress. Thrown in a Norse God of Mischief and his mythical children, and her life goes from stressful to just plain weird.</p>
<p>This will branch out to different character's POV, cuz otherwise keeping it all in hers and getting everything included would be HARD</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I know the Iron Man novelization puts Tony’s age around 35 when Iron Man takes place, which I’m guessing happens in 2008 since that’s when the movie came out, but for the sake of this story, let’s say he’s around 37 or 38 during Iron Man; that means he’s a little older when Howard and Maria die—19 or 20. If I left his age alone, he would only be 16 when Erika was born, and that’s a little too young (even for Tony).  
> Enough of my rambling—I give you the first chapter of the sequel to “It Ain’t Easy Being a Stark.” If you haven’t read that, I suggest you do that before continuing on. The first few chapters are gonna be sorta prequel-ish.
> 
> I’m only gonna say this once, so listen up: All recognizable characters belong to Marvel.

*December 24th, 1993*

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring—not even a mouse.

Yeah, Tony wished he was that lucky.

No, instead of sleeping (he was actually trying to get a decent night’s sleep for once), he was wide awake at three a.m., trying to convince an excited toddler to go to sleep. “C’mon, Kiddo, Santa won’t come if you don’t go to sleep,” he said tiredly to the little girl practically bouncing around her room.

“Can’t sleep,” she said, her messy brown hair flying every which way as she was jumping on the bed. Tony snatched her out of the air mid-jump and she squealed. “Daaaaaddy!” she whined, struggling in his grip.

“For Christ’s sake, will you calm down already? Jeez, what did your mother feed you?”

“Don’t blame this one on me,” a smooth (male) voice said from the doorway. “You’re the one who gave her all those sweets after dinner.”

“Momma!” The little girl squirmed out of Tony’s arms and launched herself at the newcomer. “Momma, I can’t sleep! What if I fall asleep and miss Santa? What if he doesn’t come at all?”

“Come now, Erika, surely it would be best for you to try and sleep—the sooner you do, the sooner you can open your gifts.”

Erika pouted.

“Erika Maria Stark, stop pouting and get into bed,” her mother scolded, and Erika dropped her gaze guiltily. “Sorry, Momma,” she said quietly, and climbed under the covers on her bed. Her parents tucked her in and kissed her goodnight, and then turned out her lights (she didn’t like sleeping with lights on) and closed her door (having her door open bothered her).

Once outside his daughter’s room, Tony grinned at Erika’s ‘Momma.’ “I love it when you get all maternal.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I am her mother, Stark—or did you forget?”

“Kinda hard to forget something like that,” Tony answered, and then dragged his lover back to bed. Once under the covers, Tony’s previously sleepy mind was now wide awake. He lay there with Loki, thinking about how the god felt in his arms and how different this was from his female form—the one Loki used while out in public.

The one he’d used to give birth to Erika.

To the public, he was Lorna Aven, former Scandinavian supermodel, long-term girlfriend of Tony Stark, and the mother of his daughter. Lorna was all curves, while Loki was all firm, wiry muscle. Her hair was long and wavy, while his was short and straight; the only similarities were height and eye color—Loki stood at an impressive six feet in both forms (and honestly, Tony didn’t mind that even as a woman, Loki stood about four inches taller than him), and his eyes were always the same shade of unnaturally bright green.

Out in the public, Loki had to put on a show. Here, though, in the privacy of Tony’s home—in their home—Loki could be himself.

Tony sighed and closed his eyes.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Loki said tiredly. “If I don’t get some sort of rest, I’ll be dead on my feet tomorrow and the Allfather will become suspicious.”

Tony frowned. “Do you have to go back tomorrow?” he asked.

Loki sat up. “I’ve put it off long enough as it is; If I don’t return to Asgard, my father will send someone to search for me. Believe me, Stark, you don’t want my brother or his friends to come here.”

Tony sat up and leaned against Loki. “Erika’s gonna miss you.”

Loki glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Only Erika?”

Tony shrugged and muttered something along the lines of “Fine, I’ll miss you, too.”

Loki smirked. “That’s what I though.” The smirk softened into a small smile. “Don’t worry, Tony. I’ll only be gone a few days, just to reassure Father and Thor.”

Loki’s family didn’t know why he spent so much time on Earth, and the last time he’d spoken to them he’d simply told them he was bored and it interested him. It was enough to keep them out of his business, and one or two concealing charms hid his mortal lover and their child from Heimdall’s All-Seeing Gaze (the charms didn’t exactly conceal them—merely urged the gatekeeper not to notice them).

He did this for Erika’s protection; he didn’t want her to suffer the same fate as his other children.

Loki forced himself to stop thinking about his children and focused on the present. “I’ll be here for Christmas, then leave tomorrow night.” He lay back down and dragged Tony with him. “Now, for the love of Odin, go to sleep.”

And that was that.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason Loki isn't around anymore . . . . .

Tony was not a morning person. He _hated_ getting up early.

That said, he wasn’t all too happy when Erika came flying into his and Loki’s room at sunrise and hurled herself onto the bed, screaming, “MOMMA, DADDY, GET UP! GET UP, IT’S CHRISTMAS!”

Tony groaned and buried his face in his pillow. “Already?” he groaned. He’d _just_ gotten to sleep, too . . . .

Loki sat up and gathered the child in his arms, forcing her to sit still. “Daddy’s not quite ready to get up just yet, Love,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head. “Why not give him a while longer?”

Erika looked like someone had given her a puppy and then taken it away (Loki _had_ suggested they get her a puppy for Christmas, but Tony had decided against it). She stopped squirming on Loki’s lap and continued to pout. “I wanna open my presents,” she whined.

Loki sighed and looked over at Tony, who looked like he was already back asleep. “Tell you what, ask Daddy if you can open one present—just one,” he said to the pouting toddler, who visibly brightened. She wriggled out of Loki’s arms and climbed onto Tony, who groaned.

“Daddy, can I please, please, pretty please open just one present until you and Momma get up?” she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“Go for it,” Tony mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed. Erika squealed and was out of the room in the blink of an eye.

Tony groaned again and rolled over. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled, yawning.

If Tony had know what was about to happen, he would’ve gotten up and spent the entire day with his family; he had no way of knowing, though, so he went back to sleep.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

“I don’t want you to go.”

Christmas day had come and gone, and now it was time for Loki to return to Asgard.

“I’ll be back,” Loki reassured Erika, who was stubbornly holding onto him. “I’ll always come back.”

Erika still refused to let go, her bright green eyes shining with tears. She hated it when Loki left—even when he said he was coming back, she always feared that he wouldn’t; that he would stay in Asgard, with others like him, who wouldn’t  ever get old or die.

Tony and Erika were getting older every day.

“Promise?” Erika asked quietly.

Loki kissed the top of her head. “Always,” he said gently, and handed her off to Tony, who took hold of her and rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“Don’t worry, Kiddo, you know your Momma loves you, and he’ll always come back to you,” Tony said to the toddler while looking at Loki.

_He’ll always come back to **us**_.

Loki gave Erika another kiss on the head and Tony a soft kiss on the lips, and then he was gone.

Tony wasn’t all-seeing. If he was, he would’ve seen what awaited Loki in Asgard, and he would’ve stopped Loki from going back.

 

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

 

Loki met with his family upon his return to the golden halls of Asgard. No, not family—relatives.

His family was back on Midgard, awaiting his return, and he vowed to return to them as fast as he could.

 

\- - - - - - - - -

 

Heimdall had Seen. He’d Seen, and he’d gone to the Allfather.

He hadn’t Seen Erika—thank goodness—but he’d Seen Loki’s mortal lover.

Among the Aesir, having a mortal lover was distasteful, never mind a lover of the same gender; they were a simple people, with simple views.

To say that Odin was displeased was an understatement. The Allfather thought highly of Midgard, but not so much that he’d accept his youngest son taking up with a midgardian. He had plans, after all, to marry off both of his sons, so that they would produce heirs. In Odin’s plans, there would one day be a Lokison in the family (he did not acknowledge Sliepnir, Fenrir or Jormugand as legitimate heirs), or a Thorson; this could not happen if his heirs consorted with mortals—and of the same gender, no less.

Over the next day, Loki was given specific instructions on exactly what he was to do upon returning to Midgard.

“Father, you cannot ask this of me!” Loki pleaded. “What I do and who I spend my time with is none of your business, you have _no right—_.”

“I have **every** right!” Odin thundered. “I am your sovereign, and you will do as I say!”

Loki wanted to scream at Odin how much Tony meant to him, how he was nothing without his partner and their little girl. Thoughts of Hela and of his sons stopped him from speaking these words aloud.

Odin would never know about Erika if Loki had anything to say about it.

Loki conceded, in the end—he would end things with his lover, but only if he was allowed to return for one more day.

Odin granted him this small favor, and Loki returned to Midgard the next day.

 

 

 - - - - - - -

 

 

“Hey gorgeous, what’s up with the gender swap?” Tony asked Loki upon his return, for he returned to them as Lorna.

“I simply choose to wear this skin today,” was all Loki—Lorna said as she grasped Tony’s hands in hers. “Come, I wish to spend the day with you and Erika. Where is she?”

“Momma!”

Lorna caught Erika as the girl threw herself into her arms. “Hello, my little one,” Lorna greeted, smiling gently. “How about we all go out and do something fun today—would you like that?”

“Yeah!” Erika said happily.

Thus, plans were made to go to the park. After that, they saw a movie, and then relaxed on Tony’s own private beach. It was the most peaceful Lorna had ever felt, and she didn’t want it to end.

It had to, though.

At the end of the day, Lorna stood by Erika’s bed and held her close. “Momma loves you,” she said quietly, trying not to cry. “Never forget that, Erika—I will _always_ love you.” She kissed the drowsy toddler on the head and tucked her in, then gently closed the door to Erika’s room.

Tony wasn’t in their room—their outing had filled his head with ideas and he was down in his workshop. Lorna went down there and used her verbal skills to lure him to bed.

She wanted to be with the man she loved, one last time.

 

 

\- - - -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so many feels when I wrote this :(  
> also, yay, someone helped me with the formatting! Thank you Myrsky!


	3. three

When Tony was sleeping, Lorna changed back into Loki. He muttered a few choice words and a moment later, a copy of Lorna appeared in bed beside Tony. She looked like she was sleeping, but when Tony reached for a warm body in the morning, all he would find was a corpse.

Loki knelt by Tony’s side of the bed and placed his hand on the inventor’s forehead. He pulled every memory Tony had of him and changed them so he wouldn’t remember Loki Odinson; he’d only ever remember Lorna Aven.

Loki gave Tony one final kiss, and then went to his daughter’s room in order to alter her memories. Once he was finished, he quickly left the house, before he had time to change his mind and go against the Allfather. He teleported to New Mexico, Midgard’s landing sight for the Bifrost, and called for Heimdall to bring him to Asgard. Upon his arrival, he was met by his brother, no doubt sent by Odin to ensure his return.

“Welcome home, brother!” Thor greeted, beaming.

Loki smoothed his features into an unreadable mask before giving Thor a small smile. “It’s good to be back,” he lied easily, and followed Thor back to the palace.

 

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

 

When Tony woke up, he was surprised to see Lorna still sleeping beside him. She was usually up by now, coaxing him out of bed at an ungodly hour—mainly, before noon.

‘Must be tired,” Tony thought, and he decided to leave her be.

Tony went to move hair away from her face and kiss her gently on the forehead and he shivered slightly—her skin was a bit colder than usual. Tony pulled the blankets over her more and got up to take a shower. After drying off and getting dressed, he went to wake up Erika and try and make her breakfast (or lunch, seeing how it was already past eleven). He made her what was supposed to be an omelet and Erika glanced at it before saying she’d wait for Lorna to get up to eat something.

Tony shrugged, turned on the TV for Erika, and then sat beside her while browsing the web. When he looked at a clock again, it was almost six.

“Is Momma up yet?” Erika asked, regretting her decision to wait for food.

Tony frowned. “Dunno, I’ll go check.” He went back upstairs to his and Lorna’s room and Erika turned her attention back on the cartoon she was watching.

Tony peered into his and Lorna’s room.

She was still fast asleep, which was weird because she never slept this late—being a former supermodel, she’d always had to rise early, and after meeting Tony she’d tried to get him into the same habits.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, rise and shine!”

No response.

Tony’s playful smile faltered. “Babe?” He knelt on the bed next to Lorna and shook her shoulder. “Hey, babe, wake up—Kiddo wanted to know when you’re getting up.”

Still nothing. Lorna didn’t even move.

Worried now, Tony checked to see if her breathing was irregular.

She wasn’t breathing at all.

Tony’s own breaths sped up as he checked for a pulse, a heartbeat, any signs of movement . . . . .

“Lorna, this isn’t funny,” Tony said, his chest tight. “C’mon, Babe, I know you like the odd cruel joke now and again, but this _really_ isn’t funny.” He shook her again. “Seriously, get up. Lorna, get up. Lorna!”

No matter how hard he shook the pale body on the bed, there was no response. Tony stood up and backed away from the bed, his vision swimming.

“Lorna?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Tony and Loki, All-Daddy means well (kind of) but he's still a dick.


	4. four

Tony called Rhodey and asked him to come over to watch Erika.

He didn’t want her knowing yet, so Rhodey stayed with Erika while Tony called a medical team to his house.

After just a few short minutes of examining Lorna, the medical examiner pulled off his gloved and sighed. One look from him, and Tony already knew before they said anything.

She was gone.

They took Lorna—they took her body with them to do an autopsy, and Erika came running into the room just in time to see her mother being put in a large black bag and carried away. Tony had to pick her up and hold her so she wouldn’t go running after them. When they were gone, Tony sat Erika down and did his best to explain what was going on.

Erika didn’t take the news well—and what child would? She started crying and screaming, yelling how that wasn’t true, and that she wanted her Momma right now.

Tony tried to calm her down but she wasn’t having any of that, and when she couldn’t follow her Momma she started crying even harder.

Tony held her and did his best not to cry.

They had the funeral shortly after, and Tony didn’t recognize half the people at the service. When people gave him their condolences, he accepted them with a small nod and held onto Erika just a little tighter. He took Erika up to the closed casket so she could lay a black rose on its lid, and they watched together as the casket was lowered into the ground.

Tony didn’t even cry at his parents’ funeral, but he cried now. He cried and held his daughter close—held onto the only thing he had left of Lorna.

After that cloudy day, looking at Erika hurt. She had the same green eyes as her mother, and every time he looked at her he saw her mother. It hurt so much he started drinking again (Lorna had gotten him to sober up, for a while) to numb the pain. He hired a PA to take care of all his personal matters, and he left the company in Obie’s hands. Several months after Lorna’s death, Tony went to a party and came back with a stranger, too drunk to even consider that maybe having sex with a stranger where your three year old daughter could easily walk in was a bad idea. He did it again the next night, and the night after that.

Lorna’s death left part of him empty and he tried filling that emptiness with booze and sex—it never worked, but after a while it just became habit.

After one night, when he was about to fuck someone on his couch, they were interrupted by a scared looking Erika, clad in footie pajamas and holding a teddy bear. Tony took her back to bed, and after that he made sure to always move things up to the bedroom; Erika never went into his room without knocking.

As Erika got older, Tony would swear up and down that Erika was trying to get the women he brought back to leave. After learning karate, she started kicking them in the shins. After learning how to play the violin, she asked for an electric one and hooked it up to his AI. She started making all this terrifying artwork that really seemed to unsettle the women he brought home.

Tony had always felt like he didn’t exactly understand his daughter, but he’d never felt more like that then when she came stomping into his office, yelling about Stark Industries and animal testing. She was so upset, but instead of talking to her he yelled at her and had her thrown out of the building.

‘ _I hate you! I wish_ you _had died instead of Mom!’_

Those twelve words struck a nerve, and for the rest of the day he heard them over and over. When he went home later that night to find her missing, he’d been scared out of his mind. He was worried that she’d been taken, or had gotten into an accident somewhere.

When the police department called, he’d never been more relieved.

He’d also been pissed.

Things with Erika were rough after that. They didn’t get along at all, and after that day she started calling him Tony instead of Dad. Seeing these changes hurt and he started drinking more. She seemed to hate him, and it looked like that would never change.

Then Afghanistan happened, and everything bad about their relationship didn’t matter anymore. All the fights, all the arguments, none of it mattered—Tony was alive, and he’d been able to go back to his family.

He’d been so scared when Obadiah shot at her the night he took Tony’s reactor, and he’d been relieved to see that she was okay (He’d insisted she wore a sling, even though she said it didn’t hurt).

After the Iron Man incident, Tony thought things would be alright, and they were—for a time, anyway.

 

 

 - - - - - -

 

**A/N:** yay for recaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for recaps. Actual new plot will happen soon


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the last chapter ended roughly around where It Ain’t Easy Being a Stark ended, and this next chapter’s gonna fast forward to the Avengers movie. Iron Man 2 will be mentioned briefly, but like I already said, I don’t have the patience to go through the whole movie.
> 
> In case anyone was wondering, Erika was 18 during Iron Man, so she’s 20-something (21-22) during the Avengers. After that, age is just gonna be ambiguous cuz keeping up with ages is exhausting

 

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

“It’s gonna be a long day,” Erika sighed quietly, leaning back against the taxi cab seat. ‘This is the last time I take a cab,’ she thought. “Is traffic always this bad?” she asked the driver, who didn’t respond. ‘Sheesh, no wonder New Yorkers are always so cranky,’ she thought.

The cab moved an inch.

“Ugh, I miss Happy,” she groaned.

The plan had been simple enough—get on a non-private jet to Manhattan, take a cab to Stark Tower, and surprise Tony. Erika had been at school for so long now she hadn’t seen him in months—not since the thing with Ivan Vanko and Tony almost dying, which she preferred not to talk about, thank you very much.

Erika’s plan just had one hitch—it was taking forever! Finally getting fed up, Erika pulled a wad of bills from her purse and put them up on the front seat, and then got out of the cab. She knocked on the trunk, signaling to the driver to pop it open, then grabbed her suitcase and snapped up the handle. She got up on the sidewalk and started walking towards Stark Tower. Her journey was cut short, however, when a huge hole ripped in the sky above her dad’s tower and aliens—actual freaking aliens!—started shooting everything. Erika took shelter where she could and waited there for what felt like forever, all the while thinking one thing—what the hell is going on!?

 

 

 - - - - - --

 

Before anyone arrived at the tower, while Selvig was setting up, Loki had looked inside the penthouse. He brushed a hand along a table and picked up a framed photograph. In it, a girl with brown and blonde hair stood smiling in a graduation gown and cap, holding up a diploma, and her bright green eyes were filled with pride.

“My, how you’ve grown,” Loki murmured, brushing his hands over the glass, his blue eyes flickering green. The green was buried beneath a sea of blue and Loki put down the picture. “Sentiment,” he sneered, and then left to check Selvig’s progress.

 

 - - - - - - - -

“Care for a drink?”

“Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity,” Loki said with a small smirk, following Tony inside Stark Tower.

“Actually, I was planning on threatening you,’ Tony replied.

“Oh, you should’ve left your armor on for that,” Loki said, winking.

Something itched at the back of Tony’s mind, but he ignored it. “Eh, it’s got a bit of mileage—plus, you’ve got the glow stick of destiny.” He gestured to Loki’s spear. “No drink? You sure?” he shrugged. “I’m having one.”

They bantered back and forth a bit, that itch never leaving Tony’s mind. Something about this, this crazy Norse “god,” seemed . . . familiar.

“What have I to fear?” Loki asked, smirking.

“The Avengers.”

Loki looked at Tony, who gave a half-shrug. “It’s what we call ourselves, sort of like a team. Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

Loki was unimpressed. “I’ve met them.”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah. Granted, takes us a while to get any traction, but let’s do a headcount—your brother, the demi-god.”

Loki rolled his eyes.

“The super-soldier, a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend, a man with breathtaking anger-management issues, two master assassins and _you_ , big fella, managed to piss off every one of them.”

Loki winked. “That was the plan.”

Tony surveyed the god—tall, lean, way too pale . . . he racked his memory, trying to think of where they might’ve met before. Loki reminded him of . . . . Of someone . . . . He snapped back to reality. “Yeah, not a good plan.” Tony sipped his drink. “See, when they come—and we will—we’ll come for you.”

“I have an army,” Loki said boldly.

“We have a Hulk,” Tony replied quickly.

Loki tilted his head. “I thought the beast had wandered off.”

“Yeah, you’re missing the point,” Tony snapped. “There’s no throne, there’s no version of this where you come out on top. (Actually, he could think of a few—bad Tony! Focus!) _Maybe_ your army comes, and _maybe_ it’s too much, but in the end it’s all on you.” Tony raised the glass to his lips. “Because if we can’t protect the Earth you can be damn well sure we’ll avenge it.”

Loki stalked forward and Tony tried again to think of where he’s seen this guy before, because seriously, the way he moved was really familiar. His musings were cut short when Loki tried to make Tony a mind slave like Barton, and when that didn’t work Loki threw Tony out of the window.

 

 - - - - - -  - -

 

 

Thanos was gone from Loki’s mind—His presence had left after the Beast had flung Loki about like a doll, and Loki woke up more clear headed than he’d been since this whole thing began. He crawled up the steps, his body and mind tired beyond belief. He turned and was met with Barton pointing an arrow at his face, the other Avengers standing around him.

“If it’s all the same to you,” Loki said tiredly, looking at Tony Stark. “I’ll have that drink now.”

Tony smirked.

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

It was finally over. The army was gone. Loki was surrounded, and except for the bone-deep exhaustion, Tony felt pretty good. All that was left to do was contain Loki until Thor could take him back to Asgard.

‘So, once again, the day was saved, thanks to the Avengers!’ Tony couldn’t help but think. His musings were cut short when a very familiar voice disturbed a very unfamiliar situation.

“ _What in the ever-loving_ fuck _is going on?_ ”

Tony almost dropped his helmet.

Barton’s arrow and Romanov’s guns changed direction and now pointed at a very worn-looking Erika. Thor and the Captain still kept watch over Loki, who hadn’t moved.

“Hey, Robin Hood, what where you point that thing,” Tony snapped, stepping forward.

The girl looked at Tony. “What’s going on?”

Tony met her at the doorway and gave her a side hug. “It’s a long story, Kiddo,” he said tiredly. “I’ll tell you later, when you’re settled—wait, why are you even here?”

Erika bit her lower lip. “I wanted to surprise you . . . .Surprise!”

“Stark, what the hell is going on?” Barton asked, never lowering his weapon.

Erika looked from Barton to Romonov, to Thor and Cap standing over Loki. “Wow, Dad, um . . . new friends?”

“Dad?” Cap choked out. “Tony, what is going on and who’s this?”

Tony grinned. “This, Capsicle, is Erika Maria Stark—my one and only daughter. Erika, meet the Avengers, who just save the world from that little shithead,” he nodded towards Loki.

“Oh,” said Erika, because she didn’t have much else to say. “Cool.”

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - - -

 

Once Loki was contained, the team went for Shawarma—whatever that was. They stayed in Tony’s tower until Thor could get Loki back to Asgard, and Tony decided introductions were in order.

“You knowAgent Romanov—better known as Natalie Rushman,” he began.

Erika nodded at the redhead and turned her attention to Barton. “What’s with the bow and arrow, Legalos?” she asked.

“Agent Clint Barton, Ma’am,” Barton said, holding out his hand. Erika shook it and smiled.

“I like a man with good aim,” she said, and Barton had the gall to laugh.

“Yeah, she’s yours alright,” he laughed.

Erika’s focus moved onto Steve Rogers. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “Captain America, in the flesh—nice to meet you.”

“Ma’am,” Steve greeted, shaking her hand. Once he let go, Erika turned to Tony and said “I want one,” to which Tony replied, “No.”

Erika’s smile was brightest for Dr. Banner. “I heard a lot about you already, especially the part where you saved this guy from going splat.” She surprised everyone by giving the doctor a quick hug. “Thank you—both of you,” she said quietly, and then stepped back out of the man’s personal space.

The Thunder god felt the most awkward—and Erika didn’t know why; probably because after viewing the tapes, she had the smallest bit of sympathy for Loki.

 “So, you’re the God of Thunder, huh?”

“Indeed I am,” Thor said proudly (and loudly). “It is a pleasure to meet the daughter of such a hero as the Man of Iron.”

Erika ducked her head and tried to hide a smile. “Yeah, he’s a regular Knight in tarnished Armor,” she chucked.

“Hey, watch it,” Tony warned teasingly.

Erika didn’t bother hiding her smile. She yawned and looked around. “Can we continue this little meet and greet tomorrow? I’m kinda wiped,” she said tiredly.

The avengers retired for the evening, deciding to tackle the Loki problem in the morning. There were no extra agents around because Loki was left with the best guard Tony had—Jarvis. Only two people could gain access to Loki’s holding cell, and, incidentally, both of them were curious about the norse god. One of them decided to try and sate their curiosity, while the other decided it could wait until morning.

 

 

 - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Loki was tired.

It had been a long day for him, too, and he was glad it was over. He wasn’t looking forward to facing the Allfather, but whatever Odin had planned for him was nowhere near as bad as what Thanos would do to Loki if (when) the Mad Titan found him.

_If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can not find you._

Loki shuddered slightly. He could still see The Other, still feel its putrid breath on his skin as it crept up behind him and laid its slimy hands on him.

_You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain._

Loki’s memories were (thankfully) interrupted when the door leading to his cell opened and the girl from earlier stepped inside. She walked around the large glass cage (like the one on the helicarrier) and stopped in front of it, where Loki could get a good look at her. She was tall—not too tall, but taller than the average mortal woman. Her hair was brown, streaked with platinum blonde, and her eyes were as bright and as green as his own.

“So the Man of Iron now sends his child to interrogate me,” Loki said quietly. “Did he not have the courage to come see me himself?”

The girl crossed his arms. “He’s had a rough day—I thought it would be better to let him rest.” She tilted her head. “Speaking or rest, you look like you could use some yourself—no offense, but you look like shit.”

Loki straightened. “You dare speak to me in such a familiar tone?” he asked.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “I’ve seen the tapes, okay—I know your glowstick of destiny was what was causing you to go insane in the membrane, so you can drop the whole ‘holier than thou’ shtick.”

“Ooh, brave words for a mortal,” Loki chucked. “What makes you think I wouldn’t still crush you like an ant under a boot?”

The girl straightened and unfolded her arms. “Two reasons,” she started, and held up a finger. “One—I’ve actually been talking with . . . . well, with someone who knows you pretty well. We talked last night, and according to him, mass murder isn’t really your style.”

“Whoever you spoke with doesn’t know me, then,” he said, remembering the destruction of the Bifrost.

She tilted her head. “I’d say he knows you pretty well.” She held up another finger. “Second reason—your eyes. According to all the security footage we have of you during the invasion, they were the coldest blue I’ve ever seen, and they matched Barton’s and Selvig’s. Right now, though, they’re as green as mine, and that happened after what we call ‘cognitive recalibration.’” A beat. “They changed after Banner threw you around like a Raggedy Ann doll.”

Loki frowned. “If you have a point, please make it.”

The girl shifted her weight and crossed her arms again. “My point is this—you were as much of a puppet in this as Agent Barton, and I’m sure if you explain that to the Avengers they’d be willing to—”

“What?” Loki snapped. “Offer me protection? Salvation?” He sneered. “I threatened their planet, you think they’d _help me_?”

She shrugged. “Maybe, if you just tell them your side of this whole thing.”

Something occurred to Loki then, and he stood up from the single bench in his cell. “My, but you’re eager to help the enemy,” he said slowly. “Why so anxious?” He stepped towards her and she looked like she wanted to take a step back. “You arrived in time to see the heroes saving the day and the villain locked away, ready to face judgment—why so eager to change that?”

Erika bit her lip and shifted her weight. “it’s not right,” she said after a pause. “If what Jor told me is right, than this invasion doesn’t make any sense.” She paused again. “You like us—you think we’re interesting, and the last time I checked, you don’t try and enslave something you like.”

Loki frowned. “What in the nine realms are you talking about, girl?” he snapped.

She let out a shaky breath and looked back up, meeting his stare. “I know who you are, even if I don’t remember you. I’ve been able to talk to my brothers and sister since I was 18, and they helped me figure it out.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Loki said harshly. He did though, and how he wished he could say that, say how glad he was she’d been able to connect with her family, but he had to be careful about what he said because Heimdall was watching, he was always watching, and now she was old enough all his concealing charms had faded—

“I don’t know what you did to make Dad and I forget, but I know why you did whatever it is you did. I know you hid me from Heimdall, from all of Asgard—”

“Stop,” he said sharply.

“— because you were afraid of what would happen to me if they found out. Odin took Sleipnir from you, threw Jormungand into the ocean—”

“Stop this, right now,” he said again, louder, not wanting to think about Sleipner or Jormangund, or any of his children.

“—He chained Fenrir and locked him below Asgard, with a sword in his throat, and he banished Hela to Niflheim.” She paused for a second. “And Narfi and Vali . . . . . I never got to meet them, but I imagine they were just as brave as Fen, just as kind as Hela, just as cunning as Jor—”

“ **Enough**!” Loki half-shrieked and it seemed like she would be silent. She backed away towards the door and turned to open the door. Before she did, though, she took a deep breath and looked up. “Heimdall, I know you’re watching right now. Loki is innocent—he was being controlled by someone or something, and he deserves a fair trial. If Odin denies him that, he's an idiot.”


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a plot to this, I swear, and I’ll get to it eventually.

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

 

Erika offered the security footage as evidence for Loki’s trial—without Tony’s knowledge, I might add (she didn’t even know if a portable DVD player would work in Asgard, but it was worth a try). The Avengers assembled in the park, and Thor took Loki back to Asgard.

Erika toyed with the idea of telling Tony the truth about Loki, but figured she’d better wait until she had a way to prove it.

_“Is your existence not proof enough?” Jormungand asked her, and she shook her head._

_“Dad remembers my mom—Lorna. All our memories of Loki are gone; I don’t know how, but I don’t have a way to get them back.”_

_“But you do,” her half-brother insisted. “The spell simply needs to be reversed.”_

_Erika snorted. “Gee, is that all?” she asked sarcastically._

_“You can travel the Realms. What’s stopping you from traveling to Asgard?”_

_Erika opened her mouth, then snapped it shut._

_She’d never thought of that._

“You okay, Kiddo?” Tony asked her later in the week.

Erika blinked and looked up from her position on the couch. “Fine. Why?” she asked, still bleary-eyed from the nap she’d woken up from.

Tony sat down on the arm of the couch. “You’ve been sleeping a lot lately, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but . . . isn’t too much sleep a bad thing?”

Erika shrugged. “I’m fine, Dad. Really. “I’ve just been a little tired, that’s all.”

_“Damn, missed it again,” Erika muttered as she sat before what could only be described as a cave with chains blocking the entrance. At the cave’s center sat an impossibly huge dark brown wolf, with chains wrapped around its limbs and the hilt of a sword sticking out of its throat._

**_‘Looking for Father again?’_ ** _The wolf’s glowing green eyes stared at her and its head tilted slightly. Like the first time she’d met Jormungand, she could hear the words in her head._

_“It’s almost like I can’t go anywhere that you or the others aren’t—I can only visit my family, and the one family member I want to see, I can’t get to.” She got up and paced angrily. “This is the fifth time I’ve ended up here—in Asgard, but not where I need to be, and it’s starting to get really frustrated.”_

**_‘You’re trying your hardest?’_ **

_“Yes, Fenrir, and no matter how many times I try it’s not working!”_

**_‘Try again.’_ **

Erika tried and tried, but her visions led her back to Fenrir, or to Sleipnir’s stables, and if she left where they were, she’d wake up. Several months after the battle in Manhattan, Thor returned to Earth to speak with S.H.I.E.L.D, and the Avengers were called to the meeting (Erika couldn’t go, but that didn’t matter—she just hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D’s security cameras and listened in on the meeting.

Loki’s trial had come and gone, and his judgment had been passed—guilty of destroying the Bifrost, of almost destroying a realm, and attempting to conquer another realm. He’d been stripped of his powers and sentenced to banishment—and this is where Thor paused.

“My brother must endure the same punishment as I once did—he is banished to Midgard, and he must prove to be worthy before his power returns.”

Suffice it to say, nobody was happy to hear that the nutjob was back on Earth. There was talk of imprisoning him, but Thor insisted he was harmless without his magic or otherworldly strength, and he would not be able to harm anyone.

Erika didn’t watch any more after that.

_“He’s on Midgard. Odin took his powers and banished him to Earth.”_

_“So I’ve heard,” Hela’s voice was like a bell chiming, and she smirked. “Don’t look so surprised—you’d be amazed with how much of the realms are under my watch—I am the Queen of the Dead, and death happens everywhere. I don’t claim to be Lady Death, though, for she would frown upon me adopting her title.”_

_Erika blinked. “Death is a girl . . . . ?”_

_Hela chuckled. “But of course.”_

_“Okaaaay, moving on . . . . . So, what should I do? Should I try to find him? And if I do, then what?”_

_Hela shook her heads. “I don’t have the answers you seek—only you can decide what is best.”_

_“You’re no help,” Erika huffed._

_“Yes, but you love me anyway,” Hela replied, and they both smiled—Erika had always wanted a sister, and now she finally had one.”_

“Dad, Thor’s here!” Erika called the next day, not mentioning that he had his little brother with him. “Mind telling me what’s going on?” she asked as Tony exited the kitchen, glass of scotch in hand.

Tony gestured to the brothers, first to Thor, then to Loki. “Point Break needed a place to stash his little bro, so he and Rock of Ages are gonna crash here for a while.” He sipped his drink.

Erika raised an eyebrow. “Really. And you’re okay with this?”

Tony shrugged. “Not Really, but Director Dearest thought it was the best place to put them, since I was rebuilding to house everyone anyway—if they were up to it.”

Erika looked from her dad to the two norse gods, then back to her dad.

Well, at least she didn’t have to go looking for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, plot!


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is the barest hint of Frostiron in this chapter, but not much—it’s only there if you squint, but there will be more in chapters to come.

 

 

 - - - - - - - - -

 

Erika knocked softly on the door to what she hoped was Loki’s room. She slowly opened it and peeked in when she got no response. Before she could blink, she was pulled into the room, the door was slammed shut, and Loki had her by the throat and raised her off the ground.

“Why do you mortals insist on bothering me,” Loki growled. “First the Man of Iron, and now his petulant child.”

Erika clawed at the hands on her throat and tried to yell for help, but he only squeezed harder.

“None of that,” Loki cooed. “You came to me for a reason, and I don’t see why we need to involve anyone else.” He released her and she dropped to the ground, rubbing her throat.

“Two words,” she gasped. “Impulse. Control.”

Loki was unimpressed. “Say what you will, then leave me be—or I might change my mind about sparing your pathetic life.”

“Gee, missed you too,” she coughed, then stood up. She took a few deep breathes, then opened her mouth. “I want to know why you abandoned us.”

Loki frowned. “Not **this** again—surely you don’t still believe yourself to be one of my children.” He smirked. “My children would tear you to pieces.”

It was Erika’s turn to smirk. “I’ve met them, actually, and they’re not that bad—I don’t see what all the fuss is about, really.” She frowned. “I believe I’ve told you this, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“What use do I have of a child’s whining?” Loki turned his back on her, signaling that they were done with the conversation.

Erika stood her ground. “I’m not giving up—I know the truth, and sooner or later you’re going to undo whatever you did to my memories.”

Loki spun around. “You dare speak to me like that?” He took a step towards her, and she tried her best not to take a step back. “I, who am a GOD among puny mortals? Insolent child, you would do well to leave now while I still allow it.”

Erika gave him one last determined look, and then she left the room.

 

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

Once Erika left, Loki’s legs wouldn’t support his weight and he had to sit down. He combed his long, pale fingers through his untidy black hair and gave a shaky sigh.

‘She’s stubborn, just like her father,’ he though.

It was pride and fear that kept Loki from speaking the truth—his own stubborn pride and the fear of what the Allfather would do should he discover this lost child of Loki’s. The girl had magic in her—he could feel it, and he knew that she had no idea other than her self-proclaimed trips to visit her siblings. His concealing charms had faded, but she still remained hidden.

Loki wanted nothing more than to restore his little girl’s memories and hold her close—hold her and never let her go. He also wished to restore Anthony (Tony—he hated being called Anthony, Loki remembered) Stark’s memories, but it had been so long and he was sure the inventor wouldn’t react kindly to the news that he had been love with a monster.

Loki didn’t know what to do—he missed his family, and the harder he tried to forget the years he’d spent on Midgard, the more he remembered them. He remembered Tony’s erratic behavior, his abnormal sleeping habits, his excessive drinking, all the time he spent in his own laboratory, building and experimenting, always trying new things. He remembered how Erika loved to watch sunrises when she could, how she had trouble sitting still when she had ideas and things that excited her (just like her father), how she’d insist on a bedtime story every night and loved to hear tales of Asgard.

Loki let out another shaky breath and straightened. Outcast or not, Tony and Erika would still be in danger if he restored their memories, so at that moment he vowed to himself that they would never be restored.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

 

It was three months before anything changed.

For those first three months, Loki stayed in his room. Food was left outside his door, and empty plates were found later when someone went to go check on him. Thor was the one to take food to him, and he was the only one who ever tried to coax Loki out of his room. The crazy norse god didn’t budge, though, but Thor never gave up. He did his best, and he even had a little help—Erika was bound and determined to get him out of that room, come Hel or high water (she never understood that expression, but it was all she could think of).

One the last day of the third month, Thor was successful—every morning, he had placed a mug of coffee in front of the door, and when he chose not to leave the precious liquid, the God of Chaos emerged only long enough to go to the kitchen, and demand a cup of coffee from Thor, and then he returned to his room.

It wasn’t much, but progress was progress.

From that point on, Thor stopped bringing food to Loki and the god had to come and get it if he was hungry. Again, he only came out long enough to grab food.

After two weeks of this, Loki actually stayed in the kitchen long enough to eat. He ignored the others and everyone was fine with this—everyone except Thor.

“Brother, come and watch television with us!” Thor offered every night after dinner. Loki refused and returned to his room. The next day, the avengers were assembled to take care of Doombots, and when they returned to the tower they found Loki on the couch watching TV.

“Wow, Rock of Ages knows how to work a TV,” Tony commented, smirking slightly.

“Contrary to your belief, Stark, I am not a complete imbecile—the television is simple enough to operate, after all.”

Tony glanced at the TV again and realized something—not only had Loki managed to turn on the TV, he’d managed to turn on the DVD player, and he’d arranged a stack of movies by the TV.

“Geez, you learn fast,” Tony muttered, and then went to his bar for a drink.

“I’ll take that drink now,” Loki called when the other Avengers had left, and it took Tony a moment to realize what Loki was talking about.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Erika left her room later that night to get a snack, and she paused when she came across the living room. Jurassic Park was playing, and it was on the part where the fat guy who turned off the security system got killed by a Dilophosaurus (the one that spits venom and has that frill thing on its neck). She knelt by the TV and looked through a stack of DVDs that had been put there—The Nightmare Before Christmas, The Sandlot, Mrs. Doubtfire, Hocus Pocus, Sister Act 2, Homeward Bound, We’re Back! A Dinosaur Story . . . . . these were all movies Erika had loved as a little girl. She’d watched them with her parents  over and over, and she’d had almost all of them memorized—it had been years since she’d seen any of them, though, so she decided to restart Jurassic park, since whoever had been watching it had fallen asleep—her dad, she realized as she went to sit down and had to move his legs. He was a heavy sleeper, though, and this movement didn’t wake him up. She sat through the whole movie and was reminded of when it had first come out—they’d had promotional toys, and she’d gotten all of them. When the movie was over, she turned everything off and went back to bed.

She never noticed Loki in a chair in the corner, or that he’d been watching her the entire time.

 

 

\- - - - - - -

 

 

 

Several months after he’d started participating in meals and group activities such as TV watching, Loki locked himself in his room again after one particularly painful day.

It had started off well enough, with him and Tony watching cartoons. Out of all of them, he spent the most time with Tony.

Tony had fallen asleep and his head had somehow managed to land itself in Loki’s lap. Loki, not even thinking about it, started sifting his fingers through Tony’s hair, massaging the inventor’s scalp with his long fingernails.

This is what he’d do when they’d—when Loki first came to Midgard. Tony would fall asleep, and Loki would play with his hair.

Once Loki realized what he was doing, he stopped.

“Why’d you stop?” Tony mumbled, eyes shut. “Felt good.”

“Forgive me,” Loki mumbled. “Old Habit.”

Tony half-smiled, eyes still closed. “Funny—s’an old habit of someone I knew.”

Loki didn’t comment.

“You remind me of her, come to think of it,” Tony continued, not bothering to move his head. “Sarcastic and snide, with one hell of a mean streak.”

That was too much for the God; Loki shoved Tony away from him and ran to his room.

Tony sat on the floor, confused. “Wow, talk about mood swings,” he muttered, and got back up on the couch.

Loki didn’t come out for a week, and when he did he was just as cold as when he’d first emerged.

 

\- - - - - - -

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is what happens when I try writing romance—I plan for it one way and the plot goes in the opposite direction.


	8. eight

“Are you kidding?” Erika muttered when Loki first re-locked himself in his room. All that progress, down the drain, especially when she saw how he closed himself off again. The last person to see him in a good mood had been her dad—they’d been watching cartoons.

“What did you say to him?” Erika wanted to know.

Tony shrugged. “Y’know, I honestly can’t remember—it wasn’t that big a deal, whatever it was.”

“Well apparently it was to him,” she said.

Tony crossed his arms. “And you’re interested in this because . . . ?”

“Really?” Erika huffed. “You need to ask? Okay, how’s this—we’re playing house to a guy that had the potential for magic—”

“Science we haven’t figured out yet,” Tony interjected.

“—and if we get him to be a good boy, he gets that magic back, and he’s on our side now so that can help you guys out. Now, though, it’s like staring from scratch, and we don’t have time for that!” She realized too late what she’d said.

Tony held up a hand. “Wait, go back—what do you mean, ‘we don’t have time?’”

“What she means, Man of Iron, is that there’s a war coming, and you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Erika spun around and a huge smile split her face.

“Jor!”

Erika ran to the tall dark-haired man in leather and hugged him. “Holy crap, you’re actually here!”

Jormungand smirked and ran long fingers through her hair, his long nails catching a few strands. “But of course, Little Sister—we’ve got a war to prepare for.”

Tony was really confused. “Okay, two questions—one, who the hell are you, and two, how the hell did you get in here?” he demanded.

Jormungand grinned, revealing sharp teeth. Tony blanched and took a step back. “Easy—magic runs in my blood, and teleportation is a handy trick of mine.” He bowed low. “Jormungand Lokison, at your service. I greatly advise you to assemble the Avengeres—I come bearing news of the greatest importance.”

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 Tony called the Avengers together, and of course all of them were suspicious of the six foot one Loki clone in green and silver Asgardian attire (sure he was a little taller, the facial features a little different and the hair up in a ponytail was longer, but other than that he and Loki could be twins). Thor was the only one who knew him, and he didn’t look pleased.

“Why have you come here, Nephew?” he demanded. “You are forbidden from leaving Midgard’s oceans, by decree of the Allfather!”

Jormungand sneered at him. “Hello to you, too, Uncle. Believe it or not, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that even your precious Allfather couldn’t dream of.”

Thor made what sounded like a snarl and took a step forward, but Steve and Tony put a hand on his arm.

“Easy, Big Guy,” said Tony. “You obviously know this guy—mind sharing with the rest of the class?”

Thor let out a heavy snort. “This serpent is the son of my brother and the Frost Giantess Angrboda. The Allfather decreed him a threat and banished him to your realm’s oceans, cursed to bite his own tail until Ragnarok.

“Tail?” Tony asked.

Jormungand gestured with his hands. “And yet here we are, with no Ragnarok in sight. As I said before, Uncle, I know tricks beyond your Allfather’s comprehension.”

Tony stepped between the two Asgardians and held up his hands. “Ok, great, you do magic tricks—why the hell did you do an appearing act _in my living room?’_ ” A beat, and then, “And what did you mean by ‘biting his own tail?’”

Jormungand’s smirk vanished. “So long as my father is here, Midgard is threatened. Wherever he goes, he will be followed.”

“By who?”

Jormungand focused his green eyes on Tony. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

 

 

 - - - - - - -

 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to enter,” Loki bit out as Tony barged into his room.

“Yeah? Well I don’t recall you ever mentioning a son that likes to show up and leave cryptic messages.”

Loki put down the book he’d been reading. “What in the Nine Realms are you talking about, Stark?”

Tony motioned for Loki to leave the room. “Ask your son Jormu-jormumgam-fuck, I don’t know how it’s pronounced!”

Loki was on his feet and in front of Stark before the mortal could blink. “Jormungand? _Here?”_ Before Tony could respond, Loki was out the door.

 

 

\- - - - - - -

 

 

Like Thor said, Jormungand had been banished to Earth’s oceans, so it was a little bit of a shock for Loki to find out that his second eldest was just downstairs.

“By the Nine, how did you get here?”

Jormungand bowed his head a fraction. “Father,” he greeted. “As you once taught us, there are ways around the Allfather’s laws.”

Were it not for the others in the room, Loki would have hugged his son—he had not seen Jormungand since he was a boy.

He had not seen _any_ of his children into adulthood, save Hela, who he had been allowed to visit occasionally.

Jormungand cleared his throat. “Father, I believe you’re familiar with the Chitauri and their leader.”

Loki stiffened. “What of them?”

Jormungand glanced towards the Avengers—no, not the Avengers; towards his—towards Stark’s daughter. “It has come to my attention that the Mad Titan is upset about losing the Tesseract, and that he is planning another invasion.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “How do you know they’re planning another attack?” he asked suspiciously.

Jormungand’s head tilted. “Do you doubt my word, dear Captain?” he asked in what was meant to be a reassuring tone. “I have nothing to gain by lying to you—know that, and know that I speak only truth.”

“No offense, Bean Pole, but we’re not exactly inclined to trust a guy who just poofs in here and tells us we’ve got trouble, especially since lying probably runs in the family,” Tony said before Steve could reply.

Jormungand’s head whipped to the other side faster than humanly possible and pinned Tony with his poisonous green eyes, which seemed to be glowing a bit. “My source has been . . . . reliable.” His gaze flickered to Erika, who was sitting by the breakfast bar out of the way. “I do not doubt their word that there will be trouble—that is why I came to you.” He looked back at Loki. “I also came because I was informed of your arrival on Midgard; I wished to see you.”

Loki swallowed.

Sensing an awkward pause, Erika decided to interrupt. “Okay, so you guys gonna kick some alien ass or what?” She hopped off the stool and stood beside Jormungand, who knelt in front of Loki.

“I would gladly fight with you and your allies, if you would allow it,” he said.

“Wait, I thought his powers got taken away,” Clint spoke up for the first time.

Both Loki and Jormungand gave him a funny look. “Magic is not the only way to fight a battle, as you mortals surely know,” Loki said cryptically.

Silence fell over the room, then Tony did what he did best—he opened his mouth and tried to diffuse the tension in the room. “Well, Reindeer Games, you can count me in.”

Loki gave him a surprised glance. “Truly?” he asked. “After all I’ve done to you?”

Tony clicked his tongue. “Believe me, it’s not the first time I was tossed out of a window and it probably won’t be the last.” He smirked. “What can I say? I’m a rebel.”

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Jormungand estimated that they had about a month, so the beginnings of a plan were constructed. The plan was simple—gather as much firepower in an unpopulated area as they could and attract the alien army’s attention to lure them there, then proceed to kick alien ass. Calls were made to Director Fury, who in turn made calls to the Army, Navy, and National Guard.

Tony got to work on something that would act as a beacon to the aliens, and he also began working on something for Loki to use during the battle to come.

“You would trust me with such weaponry?” Loki had asked. “Why?”

Tony had shrugged. “Why not?” he’d answered, and then gotten to work. Later, as he was coming out of his workshop, he paused by the penthouse’s main living room.

Erika was still awake and was talking to Loki’s son.

“—will you fight without any magic?” Jormungand (hey, he got it right) was saying. “All you need to do is get him to reverse whatever spell he cast, and then your magic will be available.”

Erika huffed and crossed her arms. “You said it yourself, Jor—there’s more than one way to fight a battle. I know martial arts, I’m trained to use a gun, and I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but your chances will be even greater _with_ magic.”

“I know that,” she sighed. “I know, but he’s still denying everything. I’ve asked him again and again to take back whatever he did, but he’s just laughed at me and told him to stop saying stupid things.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do—I want to remember him; I want _both of us_ to remember him, but it’s not like I can just go up to Dad and say “Hey, Dad, I’ve got half-siblings who are straight out of Norse legends! Oh, and by the way—Loki’s a shapeshifter and my biological mother, and he fucked with our memories!” She flopped down on the couch. “Yeah, that would go over great.”

Tony was frozen where he stood and stayed there long after Erika went to bed. When he finally rounded the corner, Jormungand was in front of him.

“Eavesdropping is rude,” he said, clearly amused. “How does it feel, little mortal, to know the truth?”

Tony only glared at the taller man. “I don’t know what kind of crap you’re feeding my daughter, but you stay away from her.” He brushed past Jormungand and headed upstairs.

“If you don’t believe it, ask him yourself—he’ll have a harder time lying to you, I’m sure of it.”

Tony ignored Jormungand’s words and went to bed.

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

The next day, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about what Loki’s son had said.

_“How does it feel, little mortal, to know the truth?”_

He’d obviously lied to Erika and fed her some bullshit story—Erika’s mother was dead and gone, had been for almost twenty years. Her name was Lorna Aven, she’d been a supermodel, she was six foot with long dark hair, a twisted sense of humor and the most intense green eyes Tony had ever seen.

Tony scolded himself for even considering it—he’d had Lorna and losing her had damaged him. He’d worked for years to get over her properly and fix the rift her death had caused between him and Erika.

And now—now this kid comes along and says it was all a lie . . . .

There was only one way to find out.

“What now, Stark?” Loki asked when Tony went to his room.

Tony closed the door and crossed his arms. “Oh, nothing, just wanted to talk. That kid of yours is a piece of work.”

Loki snorted. “You came up here to talk to me about my son.”

“Yeah, actually.”

Loki looked unimpressed. “Go on, then,” he said in a bored tone.

Tony uncrossed his arms then crossed them again. “I heard him talking to Erika—my daughter—and he seemed to thing that he was her half-brother. Any ideas why?” he asked.

The tensing of Loki’s shoulders was almost imperceptible, but Tony caught it. “No idea,” said Loki, and Tony clenched his jaw.

“You’re lying.”

_“You’re lying_.”

Loki snorted. “How can you be sure, Stark?”

_Lorna smirked. “How can you be sure, love?”_

_Tony smirked right back and pulled her down for a quick kiss. “I can always tell when you’re lying.”_

_“Oh really? How?”_

_Tony rubbed her shoulders. “Your shoulders tense, your jaw tightens, and you blink about one too many times.”_

It was a stab in the dark, but Tony took it. “Your shoulders are tense, you’re clenching your jaw, and you’re blinking about one too many times.”

Loki’s smirk widened into a grin. “So sure of yourself, are you?” he got out of the chair and stalked towards Tony, who fought the urge to back up.

_“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She asked, her smirk widening into a grin._

_“Yup”_

“Yup.”

Loki was a breath away now, staring down at Tony like he was a little mouse caught in a trap. “And what will you do, I wonder, if I am lying?

_“What will you do if I’m lying?”_

_“Well, I’ll have to punish you, of course,” He caught her mouth in a searing kiss and steered her back towards the bed._

Tony didn’t think twice about it—he stood on his toes and kissed Loki, who stiffened and raised his hands, ready to pull away.

He didn’t, though. Instead, he tangled his hands in Tony’s hair and pulled him closer. He opened his mouth to Tony’s tongue and answered with his own, claiming the shorter man’s mouth as thoroughly as his was being claimed.

Tony pulled away first and his eyes widened. “I have no idea why I just did that,” he said breathlessly, looking around to make sure there were no windows for Loki to throw him out of.

“I do,” Loki said quietly, just as breathless, and he ducked his head for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cookies for spotting Emperor's New Groove reference.  
> Also, yay for active frostiron smooches! And for human Jormungand. He's so fun to write,a lot of this and the story after it focus on him (I have picked a favorite among Loki's children and I regret nothing).


	9. nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really short chapter, just background info about when Tony met Loki

Twenty five years ago, Loki came to Earth, bored of Asgard’s stagnant ways of life. One fateful night, in the summer of 1987, he met a seventeen year old Tony Stark, heir to Stark Industries. He was attending one of Howard Stark’s charity galas under the guise of a young woman, a foreign supermodel, looking to make connections in America. Young Tony took a shine to her immediately, and offered to buy her a drink.

Lorna, as she was called, was amused, and allowed the young man to buy her a drink. She talked with him all night, switching between English and Swedish, pretending to have a hard time understanding him and his intentions toward her. At the end of the night, she bid him farewell and handed him a card with her name and the name of the modeling agency she worked for.

She wasn’t surprised at all when he showed up at her agency the next day during a photo shoot (though when Tony found out it had all been fake he’d been surprised by how far Loki had gone to make him believe Lorna’s tale).

From that point on, they made a habit of seeing each other when their schedules allowed it. Two weeks after the gala, they were dating, and everyone said it wouldn’t last. Two years later they were excepting a child—a little girl.

Halfway through Lorna’s pregnancy, she told Tony the truth—the truth about her and where she was from, and that Lorna Aven didn’t exist. He didn’t believe her at first, but eventually she managed to convince him.

That was their first major fight, and it lasted the rest of the pregnancy. Their child’s birth was difficult, and Tony was so afraid that he would lose his new family that he forgot his anger. He sat beside her while she recovered, and he watched his daughter in the hospital’s nursery.

Erika Maria Stark was born on April 4, 1990, and she was so little; the doctors said it was a miracle she survived.

Lorna was tired, and she and the baby stayed in the hospital for almost a week.

Once they were both deemed healthy enough to leave, Tony wasted no time getting his family home. He apologized to Lorna for getting so angry and asked her to show him.

She refused until after Erika was a year old, then she showed him who she truly was—not Lorna Aven, but Loki Odinson. Loki explained why he’d had to hide his life on Earth, and why he’d lied to Tony for so long—it was a difficult task for the God of Lies to be truthful, after all, and being truthful to Tony meant he trusted the man, more than he trusted anyone on Asgard. His father and brother loved him, but they had wronged him too many times for him to trust them completely.

He trusted Tony, though—enough to tell him about his life on Asgard as a prince and younger brother to Thor, God of Thunder, and about why he’d been hesitant to having a baby; it was the same reason he’d hidden Erika as soon as she was born—he’d lost so many children, he wasn’t about to lose another.

That night Tony held Loki and told the god that as long as Loki stayed there, with Tony and their daughter, he was safe. There, on Earth, he was safe, and he could have the life that had been denied him too many times. Tony promised that Loki would see Erika grow up and would never have to leave her.

Neither of them knew that this was a lie, and that Loki only had a few more precious years with his family before he would be forced to leave them. He would never see Erika ride her first bike, or go to school for the first time. He would miss her entire life, but he had no way of knowing this, so for the moment he believed the lie—that he had a family, and not even the Allfather himself could take that away from him.


	10. ten

Tony lay in bed, his brain moving a million miles a second. Loki lay beside him, dead to the world, so to speak—it might not be the right euphemism to use, especially after listening to what Loki had to say.

Tony still thought about that day—about waking up next to Lorna, thinking she was still asleep, then finding out she was gone. Gone, but not dead, it turns out—just in a different body and on another planet. Realm. Whatever.

It was almost too much for him to handle, and he was close to doubting the God of Lies; or he would be, anyway, except that he would have know if Loki was lying.

Apparently, he’d always been able to tell. Not Loki’s parents, not Thor or his friends—just him. Plus, Thor told them that for right now, Loki couldn’t work his ‘God of Lies’ mojo.

After that kiss, they’d just talked. That was it. Loki sat on the bed, his back to the headboard, and Tony put his head in Loki’s lap. They stayed there and Loki played with Tony’s hair while telling him about Asgard, and how it never changes. About how he’d gotten bored and had come to earth, and how they’d met.

Tony believed him then, because it was the first memory of Lorna he had, and if Loki had the same memory .. . . .

Well, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots.

After he finished talking, Loki just sat there. Waiting.

“Can you give them back?” Tony had asked, referring to his memories.

Loki had shaken his head, though Tony couldn’t see it. “No,” he had replied. “My magic is gone—I cannot reverse what I did, even if I wanted to.”

Tony had craned his neck back to look at the god. “Do you? Want to to, that is.”

That time Tony saw his reaction. He had nodded. “There is nothing that would give me greater pleasure.”

Tony had sat up and kissed him. “Well, all you have to do is be a good little boy and prove to Daddy that you’re worthy to get that back, right? What’s so hard about that?”

Loki had stared at him funny, then. “Thor had to almost die before he was deemed worthy, and I am not at all willing to sacrifice my life just yet. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Loki asked  about Tony’s arc reactor, but Tony didn’t really feel like reliving hit transition into Iron Man, so he promised he’d tell Loki about it later.

They had lain down then, with Tony mentioning something about running tests for armor in the morning. He was having a hard time sleeping, though, with all this new information. He supposed that for now, it did no good to worry about it, and he forced himself to fall asleep.

 

 

-          - - - - -- - -

 

“Got any threes?”

“Go fish.”

“Damn.” Erika pulled a card from the top of the deck between her and Jormungand, who looked bored.

“When is there a winner?” he asked, stifling a yawn. “This game bores me.”

Erika huffed out a low breath and looked around. “We could always play Xbox instead.”

Jormungand tilted his head. “Ex Box?”

Erika made up her mind and put her cards back in the pile. “Yeah, I know for a fact Dad has all kinds of games.” She gathered the cards and put them back in their box, then stood up and went to turn on the TV and Xbox. “Okay, we’ve got Call of Duty, Asassin’s Creed, I think Dad downloaded Minecraft . . . . Just Dance, Just Dance 2 . . . . Ooh! This one!” She pulled out a game and loaded it in the disk dispenser.

Jormungand picked up the cover and examined it—a dirty looking little girl with a needle was standing next to what looked like a diving suit with a drill on one arm. The word “BIOSHOCK” was written across the top of a water rusted piece of metal with city engravings on the bottom edge.

“Bioshock?”

Erika handed him the controller. “You’ll love it.”

 

 

-          - - - - -

 

 

“Shoot him! He’s right there, shoot him!”

“I am trying, but he keeps moving!”

“A-Doy, that’s the point! He’s behind you, use incinerate!”

“What?”

“The plasmid! Shoot him with fire! The thing that lets you incinerate people!”

Tony had a relatively short list of things that could still surprise him, but walking in on Erika screaming instructions while Loki’s son—a legendary serpent who was supposedly big enough to encircle the earth—played video games was one of them.

“It’s too early for this,” Tony mumbled, shuffling towards the kitchen for coffee.

“Morning, Daddy!” Erika called.

Tony mumbled a reply.

Erika was up on her knees, watching him from over the couch. “Daddy, I have a question.”

“Hn?”

“Having Jor here isn’t too much trouble, right?”

“Nh-hn.”

“So . . . would it bother you if I had a few more people over?”

“Nh-hn.”

“Okay, I’m taking that as a yes.” With that, she flopped back down on the couch.

A huff from Jormungand, then, “She’s going to give him a heart attack, you know.”

Erika waved him off. “Nah, he’ll be fine. Besides, all will be forgiven when he tastes her French toast—that chick can _cook_.”

The sound of a coffee mug smashing against the kitchen tiles was heard, followed by Tony’s cry of “Jesus Fucking Christ!”

Erika cringed. “Well, better than a heart attack.

Jormungand sniggered and continued his game.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - -

 

 

Erika was right; once Tony had a bite of Hela’s French toast, all was forgiven. He instructed Jarvis to save the recipe for further use, to which Erika pointed out he wouldn’t even be able to cook it.

“Mine is a special recipe, known to none but me,” said Hela, placing a plate in front of Jormungand. “Eat, Brother—you look like you have not been eating well.”

Jormungand huffed but took a small bite.

“So,” Tony said after a moment of silence. “You are . . . . ?”

“Hela Lokadottir, daughter of the Frost Giantess Angrboda and Asgardian mage Loki, queen of Niflheim, realm of the dead.” Hela gave Tony a small curtsy. “As you can see, living among the dead has taken its toll on my complexion.”

“No kidding,” Tony mumbled. “Jarvis, what’ve you got for me?”

_“Scans show only 50% living tissue, sir; there is no scientific explanation that I can find.”_

Tony whistled. “See, if Jarvis can’t explain you, you’re something special.”

Both Hela and Jormungand frowned and looked up at the ceiling. “Who was speaking?” Jormungand asked. He stood up hastily.

Tony raised his hands. “Easy, Bean Pole—it’s just Jarvis.”

“Just A Very Intelligent System,” Erika said around a mouthful of French toast. “He’s just a computer, Jor, sit back down.”

Jormungand didn’t move.

“For Christ’s sake, Jormungand, sit your butt down and finish your food.”

Jormungand mumbled something about doing what he wanted but sat down anyway. His suspiciousness was replaced with humor when the human know as Hawkeye wandered in and took a carton of milk from the fridge. He drank right from the carton and choked when he finally noticed Hela. She smiled and waved and he waved back, clearly unsettled. “Stark, what the hell is going on?” He asked through clenched teeth.

Tony motioned from Hela to Hawkeye. “Hela, Clint. Clint, Hela.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“Yeah, I know.”

 

 

 

 - - - - - - -

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending doesn't excite me, but it's the best I could do.  
> And now here's Hela -- we're just missing Fenrir and Sliepnir, and we got a full set.  
> The Boishock thing came to me after I watched my friend play Infinite.


	11. eleven

First Jormungand, then Hela—now all that was missing were Fenrir and Sleipnir. Loki had no idea how his two younger children had escaped their banishment, but he was certain his eldest and second-youngest would not be so fortunate; after all, one was bound by unbreakable chains, and the other was cursed to forever be Odin’s mighty steed.

“We can free them,” Jormungand insisted. “Hela and I—our magic combined could free them!”

“Don’t you think I’ve already tried?” Loki asked tiredly, leaning back on Stark’s—Tony’s—couch. “With my magic, I could not free any of you.”

 “I know where Fenrir is,” Erika spoke up. “According to Jor, all I need for my magic to unlock is my memories—the ones you took from me. If I get those back, then maybe all three of us would be enough to—”

“No!” Loki interrupted. Somehow, locking her memories has allowed her to evade the Allfather’s notice—even now, the remnants of the spells Loki cast were diverting Heimdall’s attention, urging him not to notice Erika. Breaking those spells would draw his attention to her, and then the Allfather would know of her existence. Loki did not even wish to think what punishment would befall Erika, just for being his child.

Erika stood up. “I’m not a little girl anymore,” she insisted. “I can take care of myself—plus I have Earth’s Mightiest Heroes to protect me!” She paused. “I know you can’t reverse it, but Jor or Hela could—just tell them how.”

Loki still refused.

He did not, however, realize just how stubborn his and Tony’s child could be.

 

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

 

“We should not be here,” Hela murmured as she and Erika rummaged through Loki’s rooms on Asgard (and how cool was it that Erika could physically travel to Asgard?).

“Is your concealment spell hiding us?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then we’ve got nothing to worry about.” She picked up another book. “It’s so weird—these are all in different languages, but it’s like my brain rearranges the words into English.”

“That would be the Allspeak,” said Jormungand, descending from an upper level of the rooms with a book in his hand. “Any and all know languages are known to you, thanks to your heritage.”

“Well, that explains why I did so well in Spanish class,” Erika muttered. She glanced at the book he held. “Is that it?”

Jormungand nodded.

Erika grinned. “Awesome.”

 

 

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

“Does it _have_ to be _blood? **My**_ blood?”

“Yours and your father’s, yes.”

“Ew.”

 

 - - - - - - -

 

 

Getting a sample of her own blood was a cinch. Getting a sample of her dad’s blood, however, was a different story, and involved sneaking into Dr. Banner’s medical lab, where she knew he’d have blood of everyone living in Stark Tower.

She got the blood and got out, just barely avoiding running into the doctor, which she was thankful for—sneaking around in his lab might just get him mad enough for the Other Guy to make an appearance, and she really didn’t want that.

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Loki could feel the build of magic in the air, but did not know what it was until several days after, when he was in Tony’s lab. Tony had made him new armor and given it a green and gold paint job. He’d even made Loki a leather holster for his throwing knives.

Loki didn’t remember ever telling Tony he used knives, and he said as much.

“Really? I could’ve sworn you said something about it.”

Loki shook his head. “I do not share that information lightly.”

Tony let out a small ‘huh,’ then shrugged it off. “Lucky guess, then.”

A few minutes later, both of them froze, the same memory rising to the surface in both their minds.

_“Uh, Babe? What’s with the letter opener?” Tony asked while watching Loki polish a dagger._

_Loki held the dagger between his fingertips and grinned. “It’s always nice to have a back-up plan, and they do hold a nice element of surprise.”_

_Tony flopped back down in the chair across from Loki. “Is Kiddo safe with those in the house?” he asked, concerned, not for the first time, for their daughter’s safety._

_Loki scoffed. “Do you think me so foolish, to have something that would harm one of my own?”_

_Tony frowned. “Good point.” A beat of silence, then, “So. Daggers. Kinda sneaky for a noble warrior of Asgard.”_

_Loki’s grin was wolfish. “I am many things, Stark, but noble is not one of them. Thor and the Warriors Three have often compared my knife throwing and illusions as ‘simple tricks,’ and have often accused me of being a coward.” His grin widened. “They are often silenced once they have said knife held to their throats.”_

_Tony chuckled. “God, I love you.”_

_“The feeling is mutual.”_

_Erika started crying then, and Loki put down his dagger to go check on her._

Tony was the first to snap back to the present. “Whoa,” he muttered, looking like he was seeing Loki for the first time. “Just—whoa.” He swallowed. “What the hell was that?”

Loki sighed angrily and massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “That, Stark, was our stubborn daughter doing exactly what I told her NOT to do.”

“Yeah? What else is new?”

That stupid girl had done the exact opposite of what Loki had told her to do. He’d ordered her to let it be, and now . . . now, who knew what would happen?

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

 

It hadn’t worked.

At least, it hadn’t done what Erika had thought. Her memories were still fuzzy at best, and there was only the barest hint of a memory that could suggest that Loki was her mother.

Jormungand had suggested that unlocking her memories was the key to unlocking her magic, but it had been three days since they cast the spell and Erika was still the same—still mortal and without magic.

“It was worth a try,” Hela told her, trying to console her.

“Like you said before, magic isn’t everything,” Jormungand added.

Erika hadn’t really known what to expect, but she’d gotten her hopes up that maybe there was something in her—something magical, like the rest of her family. She was still a genius, though, just like Tony, and for now that would have to be enough.

Erika had expected Loki to be upset with her for disobeying him, but he never said a word.

 

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

_“Who is this little one that comes to us?” something growled into her ear, its voice low and gravelly. “You reek of humanity.”_

_Erika didn’t dare turn around—she didn’t have to. Whoever spoke circled around her and she was at a loss for words. It—he was clearly Chitauri, but more evolved._

_The Other, then (Loki had told them everything eh could of the alien army, including its leader and the Mad Titan—Erika hoped never to face him)._

_“How has such a little human managed to find their way here, I wonder?” he continued, and paused. “I see into your mind—you are mortal, but also of Asgard. You belong to that wretch who failed us.”_

_“Know this, girl—we meant what we said; there is no place for him to hide from us. We will come, and Midgard will fall, and not even your armies can stop us.”_

Erica jolted awake, sweat beading her forehead.

“Crap.”

 

\- - - - - - -

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My beta reader said Loki was too squishy and soft in the earliest draft of this chapter, so I hope I changed it well enough.


	12. twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping everyone in character's always hard for me, I hope I did okay. (It's all already written, so if not then too bad, but I still hope I did okay).

Their month was almost up, and Tony had a surprise for Loki. He brought him down to the workshop and handed him a metal staff about half as tall as Loki with a grip on the end.

“All you gotta do is twist the handle,” he said

Loki did so, and the metal bar was suddenly crackling with glowing green electricity.

“That should cut through just about anything, so don’t go dismembering yourself.”

Loki studied the staff, moving it left and right and almost slicing a table in half.

“Whoa, easy Obi-Wan!” Tony called, motioning for Loki to twist the handle again. He did so and the green static dispersed.

Neither one of them noticed Erika until she said, “No Way! You built him a _light saber_?”

Tony grinned. “I though it would be fitting, and in case you’re wondering, yes, I did think about making it red. He’s a Jedi now, though, not a sith lord, so I felt green was appropriate.”

“Yeah, okay, but _you made a light saber._ A freaking light saber! And it _works!_ ”

“I do not understand this conversation,” Loki said.

“I thought you’d seen Star Wars,” said Tony, and Loki shook his head. “Okay, we’re going to fix that as soon as this ‘invading army’ crap is over.”

Erika looked at the staff in Loki’s had. “Can I have one?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” both Tony and Loki said at the same time, and Erika pouted.

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“So, when are you going to tell the rest of the team?” Erika asked when it was just her and Tony in the kitchen.

“About what?” Tony asked, eating a spoonful of coco puffs.

“About you and Mom,” Erika said, and then crunched down on a bite of fruit loops (she ate her cereal dry, because milk was disgusting). She chewed and swallowed, and then added, “And I’m still not used to calling a guy ‘Mom.’”

Tony sighed. “We talked about it—”

“Whoa, so you _can_ talk about important emotional crap?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he said dryly. “As I was saying, we talked about it and figured it was better to keep that part of it out. At least, give them a little longer to get used to him, then maybe, if the timing works out . . . .” Tony shrugged. “Who knows?”

Erika bit her lower lip. “Alright, so I’m assuming you want me to keep the whole ‘Jormungand and Hela are my siblings’ thing a secret, too?”

“You assume correctly.”

They fell into silence, the only sound coming from Erika eating her cereal. The silence was broken when Erika put down her spoon and said, “I still can’t remember him very well. It gets clearer every day, but my clearest memory is still the day of the funeral.”

Tony sighed. This was _so_ not a conversation he wanted to have at the moment, but he was trying to earn ‘good parent’ points and actually talk to her about important things. “Look, Kiddo, I don’t know if you’ll ever—if your memories will . . . .” he trailed off and sighed tiredly. Fuck, this was hard.

“You don’t think I’ll ever remember him clearly,” Erika finished. “Because of how young I was.”

Tony nodded hopelessly.

Erika poked at her cereal, suddenly not feeling very hungry. “Do _you_ remember him?”

“Yeah,” was all he said, because he didn’t know how to tell his daughter that the Loki that was with them now wasn’t the same Loki he’d known all those years ago, that this wasn’t _his_ Loki. His Loki was prideful and arrogant, yes, but also understanding and compassionate. His Loki liked the odd cruel joke now and again, but nothing harmful.

His Loki’s eyes were the brightest Tony had ever seen, but those same eyes were now cold and dark, and full of hate.

Loki was different, but Tony didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words, so he stayed silent.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

“Jarvis, where’s our resident psychopathic god wandered off to?”  Tony asked his AI later that day.

“ _Master Odinson is currently in the training room, Sir,”_ Jarvis reported.

“Thanks a bunch, Jar-Jar,” said Tony, changing directions and heading for the elevator that would take him to the training room.

_“I wouldn’t recommend going down there, sir—Master Odinson seems to be in an unpleasant mood,”_ Jarvis warned.

Tony waved the AI’s warning off. “Relax, Jarvis, I’ve dealt with His Royal Moodiness enough to know what to expect.”

_“. . . . . Very well, Sir.”_

The elevator dinged and Tony stepped into the small enclosure, whistling as he went. His whistling trailed off when the elevator doors opened and he was met with a sight that was . . . well, it was really disturbing, actually. Scattered across the floor were various parts of practice dummies, and standing in the middle of the chaos were six practice dummies all in a neat row.

The disturbing part? Those last six dummies were dressed as the six members of the Avengers.

Tony watched wide-eyed as Loki’s throwing knives were embedded in dummy-Thor’s head, dummy-Natasha’s belly, and dummy-Hawkeyes arms. He brought out the staff Tony had made him and turned on the power before using it to hack the dummies to pieces.

Tony winced as dummy-Tony’s head rolled across the floor. He gulped and clutched his own neck.

“New training exercise?” he asked hesitantly, and yelped in surprise when a dagger embedded itself in the wall mere centimeters away from his head. “Whoa, easy there Rambo!” he exclaimed, edging away from the knife.

He wasn’t quick enough, though, and Loki was suddenly across the room and had him pinned to the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tony asked, panic making his voice rise—Loki was without magic, but he was still strong enough to snap someone’s neck (which, according to Thor, should have been impossible—Loki’s strength should have vanished along with his magic).

Loki said nothing, only stared at him with hatred burning in his eyes.

“Seriously, calm the fuck down and tell me what the fuck is wrong!”

Loki slammed him against the wall. “You wish to know what is wrong?” He asked, his voice on the verge of being a growl. “Very Well, Stark, I will tell you—what is wrong, is that I am stuck here, on a useless excuse of a planet, with none of my magic. I am surrounded by and forced to live with the very people who took great pleasure in beating me into the ground, and now I have the Mad Titan’s forces after me, with only Midgard’s sad excuse for a military for protection! And, to top it all off, you pathetic mortals have dragged my children into a war that they cannot hope to win! Now tell me, Man of Iron, does that answer your question as to _what is wrong_?!”

Tony tried putting his hands on Loki’s arms, but the god snarled at him and slammed him into the wall again. “Touch me again and I’ll crack your skull against the concrete!” Loki spat.

Tony swallowed and forced himself to breathe evenly. “Babe, just calm down—”

“Enough of your demeaning pet names, Stark!”

Okay, new plan—approach the subject slowly and try to find a calm, peaceful solution.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!”

Or not.

“Were you not listening, Or are you just too stupid to remember what I just told you?” Loki snarled. “I’m on an alien planet, practically defenseless, surrounded by enemies—what part of that did you not understand?”

“Yeah, you’re pissed about the no magic thing, I get that,” Tony said back, starting to get angry. “Seriously, though, are you just now realizing this? When you’ve been here for, what, six months? You seemed okay with everything yesterday—what, you just suddenly decided to go berserk?”

Tony’s tirade was cut off with another slam against the wall, and his head knocked against concrete hard enough to make his vision swim.

Loki dropped him and spat at his feet. “You’re pathetic,” he spat. “I cannot for the life of me understand why I _ever_ allowed you to come near me, let alone bed me. You are weak, you and that stupid, shallow girl!” He glared at Tony as if he was the dirt under Loki’s boots.

“Hey, that ‘shallow girl’ is my daughter!” Tony rasped, his own anger starting to boil. “She’s yours too, or did you forget?”

Loki sneered. “I want nothing to do with that pathetic child, and I have no more patience for you either one of you!’” He spat, and before Tony could reply he let the training room.

Tony sat there and tried to calm himself down. He was trying to make sense of what just happened, and he had three theories. Theory number one—Loki’s docile state had been caused by shock or fatigue, maybe from going from Prison on Asgard to living in Stark Tower, and now he was only just realizing his situation. Theory number two—Loki had been pissed all along but managed to keep a lid on it, but the lid finally blew and it all came spewing out. Theory number three—and this one wasn’t very likely—Loki had grown used to living at the tower and was trying to drive a wedge between him and the towers residents, so that when Thanos came he only would come for Loki.

Theory one was good, but unlikely, and theory three had Tony convinced he’d been watching too many movies. So, theory two it was.

Now the only question was, how does one calm an angered god?

 

 

 

\--- - - - - - - -

 

 

 

_I am stuck here, on a useless excuse of a planet, with none of my magic_.

Truth; He was stuck on Midgard, with no magic and only half his strength, with no hope of ever being free again.

_I am surrounded by and forced to live with the very people who took great pleasure in beating me into the ground._

Truth; hadn’t that been the plan, though? Hadn’t he hoped that “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes” would stop the invasion?

_Now I have the Mad Titan’s forces after me, with only Midgard’s sad excuse for a military for protection_!

Truth; Better than no protection, though, and he should count himself lucky that they were willing to go up against Thanos, even if it was solely for the protection of their planet.

_And, to top it all off, you pathetic mortals have dragged my children into a war that they cannot hope to win!_

Truth; If it weren’t for these events, his son would still be in the ocean and his daughter in the Realm of the Dead. If nothing else, though, he was glad to see Jormungand again.

_You’re pathetic_

_I cannot for the life of me understand why I ever allowed you to come near me, let alone bed me._

_You are weak, you and that stupid, shallow girl!_

_I want nothing to do with that pathetic child, and I have no more patience for you either one of you!_

Lie, lie, lie. All of it lies. They were the best thing—the only good thing—about his current situation. They were his family, and he’d be damned if he dragged them into his fight.

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - -

                                                                                 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Loki’s staff, imagine the shock sticks that the Lieutenant (Mustache Guy) uses in Legend of Korra.
> 
> Loki had been through so much, and the Loki in The Avengers is obviously different from the Loki in and before Thor. I still like to believe that the old Loki is in there somewhere, and he still cares about his family.


	13. thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty, here's more plot. Kind of a shorter chapter, but you get a fight scene soon :)

Nobody saw Loki the next day. Not Bruce, who’d been working in his lab, or Steve, who had been working on modern military strategies (which weren’t that different from strategies of the 1950’s). Not even Erika had seen him, and she’d been everywhere he usually was.

“I haven’t seen him in a few days,” she admitted, pausing in her drawing of Jormungand and Hela while they played (or tried to play) games on the Xbox. “Last I knew, he’d gone to hone his butt-kicking skills in the Training Room.”

Tony didn’t mention his and Loki’s confrontation and the reason he was looking for the God, and he gave up and went back to his lab. It was only then that he realized something important, something he should have noticed right away.

His beacon—the beacon he’d been working on to summon the Chitauri—was gone, along with Loki’s weapon.

“Jarvis, where’s Loki.”

He should’ve asked Jarvis first, should have thought to check with the AI, should have—”

“. . . . _Master Odinson’s wherabouts are currently unknown, Sir.”_

“And why the fuck didn’t you _tell me?!_ ”

_“You never asked, Sir. Also, Master Odinson made it clear he did not wish for you to know.”_

“And since when do you listen to him?” Tony almost shouted.

“ _. . . . I’m not entirely sure, Sir.”_

Tony grumbled something about rewriting Jarvis completely and got ready for a very unpleasant conversation with a very unpleasant man.

 

 

 - - - - - - -

 

 

“What exactly do you mean when you say he ‘took it’?” One severely pissed off Nick Fury asked Tony when given this interesting bit of news.

“I mean exactly that—the beacon’s gone, and the tracer I put on him has him pegged somewhere in the Mojave Desert,” Tony snapped, not at all ready to deal with the Director. “We need to follow him—we need to get every military unit we can mobilized and—”

“And what” Fury interrupted. “We mobilize out military and what? Go after a crazy Norse deity and get between him and whoever’s pissed off at him?”

“We were already planning on getting between him and the Chitauri,” Tony argued.

Fury crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Well maybe those plans have changed, Mr. Stark. Personally, I see no reason to get between Loki and whatever the hell’s hunting him.”

Tony stood abruptly from his seat across from the director. “You may be okay with sitting by while a defenseless man gets torn apart, but I’m not.”

“Please tell me you’re not thinking of doing something stupid,” Fury called after him.

Tony didn’t answer.

 

 

 

 - - - - - - -

 

 

“I’m going after Loki.”

“Seriously?” Clint was the first to ask. “After all that little fucker put us through? Why not let this titan dude have him?”

“I thought you were all about putting an arrow in this Big Bad dude’s eyeball?” Tony bit back.

“Yeah, well maybe I changed my mind.”

“I’m with you, Tony” Steve said, his heroic tone somewhat negated by his bowl of fruit salad and his ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron. “Loki may have been our enemy, but right now he needs our help.”

“Steve’s right,” Bruce agreed. “The guy’s brain is still a bag of cats, but we can’t just abandon him.”

Tony looked to Natasha, who shrugged impassively, and Clint, who still didn’t look happy. “Fine,” the archer bit out. “But you owe me.”

“I’m going, too.”

Tony turned sharply to where his daughter stood. “Uh, no, you’re not, actually,” he said in a ‘don’t argue with me’ voice.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” she shot back. “Dad, I can help,” she insisted, and held out her palm. “Look.” A small flame appeared in her hand. “I’m learning,” she said proudly.

“She is a worthy student, and she is ready for combat,” Jormungand said from behind her.

“Every minute we spend here is another minute too late; we need to go.”

As the Avengers suited up, Erika pulled aside Jormungand and Hela. “We need to make a pit stop,” she told them. “There’s no way we can do this on our own.”

“What do you have in mind?” Hela asked.

“She means for us to go to Asgard,” said Jormungand.

Erika blinked. “It’s really creepy when you do that.”

Jormungand grinned.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

The bifrost was too slow, so they took a direct approach.

“I cannot directly teleport us to the Great Hall, so we will need to make haste once inside the palace walls if we wish to make it to the Allfather,” Jormungand warned.

Once inside the palace walls, they were met with resistance.

“We request an audience with the Allfather,” said Hela, still wearing a glamour that hid the rotting side of her body.

“None may see the Allfather while he in council,” One guard boomed.

“Oh, really?” Jormungand asked. “Not even his grandchildren?” He closed his eyes and a dark shadow shaped like an enormous serpent towered over the guards. Erika watched this and was struck with just how terrifying her half-brother was. The guards seemed to agree with her and let them pass.

Hela motioned for Erika to enter the Main Hall and she took a deep breath before pushing open the doors.

“Who dares disrupt the Allfather?” A powerful voice boomed.

‘Okay, Erika, play it cool. You’re talking to royalty here, so be polite and respectful.’ Erika thought.

“That would be me,” was what ended up coming out of her mouth. “There’s trouble brewing on Earth—Midgard—and we need your help.”

Odin Allfather stood from his throne and regarded the three of them carefully. “Jormungandr  Lokison, Hela Lokadottir,” he addressed Jormungand and Hela. “Not only have you violated the terms of your banishment, you dare bring a mortal into the Realm Eternal?”

“Hey, are you seriously going to just ignore what I said?” Erika asked in a louder voice.

“Silence!” Odin thundered. “You have no right to speak here, Mortal!”

“Uh, actually, I think I do!” she shot back.

“I said SILENCE!” Odin’s voice shook the hall.

“NO!” Erika yelled back.

“Who are you to talk to me in such a way?” Odin growled, beyond pissed off.

Erika took a deep breath. ‘Here goes nothing.’ “My name is Erika Maria Stark Lokadottir. I am the daughter of Loki Odinson of Asgard and Anthony Stark of Midgard, and I have a right to be heard!”

The silence that fell was deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-Dun-Duuuuuunn!  
> . . . . .   
> sorry, that was lame.


	14. fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m no good at battle scenes, so this chapter might suck. It needed to be written, though, so I did my best.
> 
> Loki, Tony, the Avengers, the Chitauri, Odin and the Asgardians, and all other recognizable characters belong to Marvel. Erika belongs to me, and Jormungand, Hela, Sliepnir, and Fenrir belong to whoever wrote the Norse myths.

 

 

 - - - - -

 

How long would it take, Loki wondered, for them to realize what he had done and where he had gone? How long before Tony realized his beacon was gone? Would he put two and two together and come after Loki, or leave him to the mercy of the Chitauri?

Steeling his nerves, Loki activated the beacon and readied himself for the worst.

He did not have to wait long.

A portal ripped through the sky and hundreds of Chitauri swarmed towards him. He twisted the handle of his weapon and readied himself.

Fighting off the Chitauri whilst evading their energy blasts was not an easy task, and Loki found that they were doing far more damage to him than he was to them. One particularly large Chitauri soldier rushed him and would have gutted him like a fish, but had dropped dead, an arrow stuck between its eyes. The Chitauri were unable to get to him, banging on an energy force field.

“That won’t hold them forever.”

Loki turned and his throat went dry. “Jormungand.”

Jormungand bowed slightly. “Did you really believe we would abandon you?”

Loki blinked. “We?”

A Chitauri soldier broke through the barrier and was knocked back by a blast of energy.

“Nice try, Ugly,” Iron Man’s synthesized voice called as he landed next to Loki. The faceplate slid up and Tony smirked at Loki. “Gotta try harder than that to get rid of us, Babe,” he said.

The Avengers had followed him. They were willing to die for him.

Loki swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. “This is my fight, you need not bother yourself,” he said, his voice cracking. Damn, his mask was slipping.

“The hell we don’t,” Iron Man shot back. “You’re one of us now, and we defend our own. Call it, Cap.”

Captain America stood tall and proud and surveyed the surrounding enemy before laying out the basic plan—Black Widow and Hawkeye would take out as many as they could, Iron Man would work on containment, and Thor would try and slow them from coming through the portal. The hulk, of course, would smash all who got in his way, and Cap would give his assistance wherever it was needed. His last instructions were for Jormungand. “See if there’s anything you can do to close that portal,” he instructed.

Jormungand nodded. “As you wish, dear Captain.”

The barrier broke, and the battle began. They did their best, but they were seriously outnumbered. Hawkeye and Widow kept the Chitauri away from Jormungand as he worked to summon enough power to close the portal, and Thor used his lightning to stop any more from coming through. The best Jormungand could do at the moment was combine his magic with his uncle’s lightning and form a barrier that would electrocute all who tried to pass it.

Iron Man didn’t have to worry about containing them, since they were all focused on killing Loki, so he took down as many as he could.

They all did their best, but in the end there were too many. Jormungand’s barrier lost its strength and more Chitauri came through.

Just as all looked lost, an ear-splitting roar cut through the air and a blinding light made everyone shield their eyes. Seconds later, a giant wolf with fur so dark brown it was almost black came crashing through the enemy ranks, swatting away the Chitauri as if they were merely insects. The wolf was followed by hundreds of men in armor, all of them at lest six feet tall. They were led by an old man with an eyepatch riding a black eight-legged horse.

Odin himself and the might of Asgard had joined the fight, but Loki could not stop watching the wolf.

“Fenrir,” he breathed, and that was all he had time to do before he had to defend himself against more Chitauri.

They were winning, Loki though suddenly. The force of Odin’s army and his son’s wrath was killing more and more Chitauri, and Jormungand had made a barrier strong enough to hold off any more from coming through.

“We need to close that portal and make sure everything on the other side can’t bother us anymore,” Jormungand breathed, exhausted from having to use so much magic at once.

“We can help,” said Hela, appearing beside them with Erika by her side.

“I’ll bet if we put our magic together, we can zap those bastards and close the portal,” said Erika.

Iron Man landed beside them and the faceplate snapped open. “Why the hell did you come here? I thought I told you to stay out of this!”

Erika crossed her arms. “Excuse me, but you should be thanking me right now. I brought us backup, so you’re welcome.” She gestured to the Asgardian warriors still fighting.

“You brought them here?” Loki asked.

Erika grinned. “Well, I didn’t outright bring them here to Earth, but I managed to convince Odin to lend us a hand.” She paused. “I may have also kind of yelled at him. And told him who I really was. And then demand he release Fenrir.” She paused again, and then gave a shrill whistle. A moment later, a tall young man with wild dark brown hair dressed in furs and armor appeared by her side. “I am not some mongrel pup to be summoned,” he growled.

Erika rolled her eyes. “Whatever, we need all the magic we can get right now.”

The fighting continued while Erika, Jormungand, Hela, and Fenrir formed a circle.

“Hey, don’t forget about me!”

A shorter young man with short black hair came to their circle.

Hela smiled and made room for the newcomer. “We wouldn’t dream of it, Sleipnir.” The circle reformed and they all clasped hands. The minute they were all connected, a poisonous green glow engulfed them and a barrier made of pure energy cut them off from the rest of the battle.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Iron man breathed, his faceplate snapping back in place. He was so enamored with the magic going on he didn’t notice the Chitauri rushing him with its energy gun aimed right for him.

“Tony, move!” was all Loki said before he took the blast meant for Tony. The Chitairu was taken down seconds later by one of Tony’s repulser blasts, but by then it was too late.

 

 

 - - -- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

The moment Erika’s hands clasped her siblings’ the power coursing through her almost knocked her off her feet. Jormungand and Hela kept her upright and she took a deep breath, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. She’d been toying with magic lately, but nothing like this. “What now?”

“Like you said,” said Jormungand. “Zap the bastards and close the portal.”

Another wave of magic swept through the circle and concentrated in the middle before shooting up towards the sky.

The screams of the Chitairu could be heard for miles as they were elextrocuted by the siblings’ magic, and one by one the life on the ships died out until none remained. The magic shifted then and surrounded the portal, stitching the sky back up like a torn cloth. When the portal was sealed, the extra magic spread among the remaining Chitauri and fried them like eggs on a hot sidewalk. As soon as the last Chitauri was dead, Erika collapsed. Fenrir helped her sit up and supported her. “Easy, Little Sister,” he said softly.

“What a rush,” she laughed, trying to catch her breath. After a few moments she managed to get to her feet and turn towards where she last saw her parents. “Not bad, am I right?” she asked with a smirk.

The smirk vanished when she got a good look at the scene in front of her.

Loki lay on the ground, wheezing and coughing, and Tony was kneeling by his side.

Erika’s insides froze and she took a hesitant step forward. “Mom?” she asked in a quiet shaky breath. “Mom!” she sprinted forward, falling to the ground beside her parents.

“Momma?”

“Tis nothing, Child,” Loki wheezed, then looked towards his other children. “If one of you could be so kind . . . . ?” he trailed off.

Sliepnir knelt beside Loki. “Allow me,” he offered, his hands glowing with magic.

“Momma’s Boy,” Fenrir muttered, and was elbowed by Hela. “Oi!” he complained.

Loki’s wound was not life threatening, so it was nothing any of his children couldn’t heal--even Sliepnir, who still struggled with more complex healing spells. Tony breathed out a sigh of relief. “Don’t scare me like that,” he muttered, pulling Loki close.

As tired as he was, Loki did not protest. He only kicked up a fuss when the Allfather deemed them worthy of his attention. “Allfather,” he greeted, climbing to his feet. “To what do we owe the honor of your prescence?”

Odin frowned. “You would do well to show gratitude, Silvertongue,” he warned. “I have done you a great service.”

Loki opened his mouth to say something (spiteful, probably), but was cut off by Tony. “Yes, you have, and we are really, really grateful,” he said quickly.

Odin glanced at Tony. “So, this is the Man of Iron. The man who holds my son’s heart.”

Loki started at that and he gave Odin a wary look.

Odin sighed and gave Loki a small hint of a smile. “no matter what crimes you commit, you are still and always will be my son.”

This struck something deep within him, and he remained silent.

 

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

After a long discussion (and a lot of arguing), it was decided that Loki would continue to serve his sentence on Midgard, and his children would have a trial period to show the Allfather they were worthy of their newfound freedom. Odin argued heavily against it.

“And why should I allow this?” he asked.

“I don’t think they’re asking permission,” Erika said bravely, and this switched the conversation to focus on her. Her parentage and whether she was dangerous was discussed, but in the end, Odin showed her leniency. With all of this decided, he took his leave, him and the other warriors being summoned back to Asgard.

“What a jerk,” Erika snorted.

“So,” Clint said to Tony after a moment of silence. “You and Loki, huh?”

 

 

 - - - - - -

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this chapter sucks. I’m sorry, I did the best I could *hangs head in shame* I promise the next one will be better.


	15. fifteen

Life after ‘The Battle’ was anything but normal. Not only were there now five immortals living in Stark Tower (five and a half, technically), now the truth about Tony’s past with Loki had come to light and everyone was in a different stage of processing this.

Steve’s world-view had been turned on its head—again. Not only was it difficult for him to understand the concept of two men together (born and raised before the Fifties, remember?), but it was even harder for him to understand Erika’s conception (he was barely getting used to magic—shape shifting and gender swapping were light-years ahead of what he could handle).

Bruce remained a neutral party, understanding that it was Tony’s business and nobody else’s who he slept with. His only comment was a word of caution to Tony that the Loki he knew then probably wasn’t the Loki he knew now.

Natasha had made no comment, but now she watched Erika like a hawk.

Speaking of hawks, Clint had made one or two inquiries as to whether or not Erika was even human; that didn’t go over too well and it ended with Jormungand and Fenrir threatening to disembowel him.

Out of all of them, though, Thor was the worst. He didn’t trust Jormungand, Hela, or Fenrir, and now that distrust was branching out towards Erika. Erika had really liked Thor—she’d been happy to have an uncle, even if he didn’t know he was her uncle.

 

Having Hela and Jormungand around was nothing new, but showing Fenrir how everything worked was starting to wear Erika out. Every Midgardian thing she showed him was ‘beneath him.’

Except for the Xbox.

Like his siblings, he took an immediate liking to it and demanded to be shown all of the games available for it (even the ones for little kids). It had taken Erika almost two weeks to finish Bioshock Infinite (and she’d had a head start, since she’d gotten it a week before its official release date), but Fenrir beat the game, found all the easter eggs, finished all the side quests, and unlocked all the achievements in thirty-six hours.

“Holy crap, you’re one hell of a Gamer,” she said after he informed her he’d beaten the game, and she worked on finding something else for him to play.

 

 

\- - - - - - -

 

“Is this tower not inhabited by other mortals?” Fenrir asked one morning as he once again found Erika alone in the kitchen.

“Yeah, but I think they’re kinda freaked out right now,” said Erika, offering her half-brother a cup of coffee, which he gladly accepted (he preferred it black while Jormangund and Hela added sugar and creamer—the amount of CoffeeMate Jormungand used was insane). “Steve, Thor, and Natasha look at me like I might bite someone, Dr. Banner probably wants to run tests on me, and Clint won’t even talk to me,” she sighed.

Fenrir frowned slightly and Erika could tell he was trying to put those names with the faces of the people he’d met after the battle. “Don’t hurt yourself,” she said with a small smile, stirring her coffee and taking a sip. “Hopefully they’ll get over it.”

“Is it not better for them to fear you?” Fenrir asked, clearly confused. “Intimidation is an advantage, after all.”

Erika snorted. “Believe me, I know; it only bugs me because . . . .” she trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I’ve been around these people for a while—they only started acting like I had two heads after the fight.”

Fenrir tilted his head slightly and frowned. “Have you talked to Father about this?”

Erika shook her head. “There’s not really anything he can do about it.”

Their conversation paused as Dr. Banner came into the kitchen looking more tired than Erika had ever seen him. He didn’t even acknowledge them—he just grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter and sat down at the kitchen table, focusing his attention on the StarkPad he had with him.

Fenrir finished his coffee, placed it in the sink (one day she was going to get it through his thick skull to rinse out his own damn mug), and tilted his head towards Dr. Banner in a ‘here’s your chance’ motion before leaving the room. Erika let out a huff of air and went to rinse out her and his mugs. She turned the water off and turned around, studying the doctor for a minute before saying, “Alright, cards on the table.”

Dr. Banner looked up from the StarkPad. “Hmm?” he asked absent-mindedly, as if he’d only just noticed there was someone else in the kitchen.

Erika held open her hand and an apple disappeared from the bowl and reappeared into her hand—she was getting better at this magic stuff. “I know how scientists think, okay? I’ll bet you’re just dying to see what makes me tick.”

Okay, she was being kind of a bitch, but to be fair almost a week of nobody talking to her was making her a little moody.

Dr. Banner looked confused for a moment, but then realization dawned on him. “You think that because I know you’re Loki’s daughter, I’ll want to study you,” he said in an ‘ah-ha’ voice, then turned fully in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. He gave her a tired smile. “Erika, I think you’re forgetting something,” he said gently.

Erika’s head tilted to the side.

“When I’m angry, I turn into when your father calls ‘an enormous green rage monster,’” he continued. “Believe me; I’ve got no right to judge anyone.”

Erika’s gaze dropped to the ground and she bit her bottom lip. When she looked back up, she was smiling slightly. “The Hulk _is_ pretty cool,” she said.

“Well, to be honest, I’d prefer something a little more controllable.” Yep, he was definitely looking a little more worn out than usual.

Erika sat down beside him. “Is everything okay, Dr. Banner?” she asked, concerned for the gentle doctor’s health—for a good reason, too.

Dr. Banner took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Your . . . . Loki’s been letting Tony and I run some tests, to see if there’s a way around Odin’s spells that are binding his magic, and so far that magic is prevailing over science.” He slid his glasses back on. “What I don’t get is why his powers never came back—Thor told us about how he was banished here, and how sacrificing himself for that little town restored his powers. Loki essentially sacrificed himself for Tony, but he’s still powerless.”

Erika shrugged. “Maybe it was because he did it for a selfish reason. At least, I think sacrificing yourself for love is selfish.”

Dr. Banner’s eyebrows lifted. “And why is that?” he asked, and Erika could almost taste his curiosity.

She shrugged again. “Love is a selfish emotion—you do things for love because you want to protect them, and that’s your only reason for doing it. Thor was protecting an entire town—Loki was only protecting someone who meant something to him.”

Dr. Banner let out a small ‘huh’ and typed something into his StarkPad. “So, in theory, if her were to protect someone for purely non-selfish reasons, he’d get his magic back.”

“Only in theory, but unless he’s put into a situation where he has to save people, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

The wheels in Dr. Banner’s mind were turning—Erika could practically see them. “A situation where he’d have to help people . . . . .” He said thoughtfully, and then he said a quick goodbye and hurried out of the room.

Erika blinked. “Nice talking to you too,” she muttered to the now-empty chair.

 

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - - -

 

 

“You want Loki to join the Avengers,” Tony deadpanned. “Yeah, that’s real funny, Brucie, we’re all busting a gut here,” he said, turning back to his monitor.

“Tony, I’m serious,” Bruce pushed. “He’s still got his strength and he’s trained to fight—he could help.”

“‘He’ is still in this room and would appreciate it if others did not pretend otherwise,” Loki spoke up, still hooked up to one of Tony’s machines from their previous tests.

Bruce gave him a quick apology before focusing on Tony again. “It would be protecting people for non-selfish reasons—exactly what Thor had to do to get Mjolnir back.” He put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “This could work.”

Tony sighed. “You’re the last person I’d expect to hear this from—the first person being myself—but I know better. Loki’s not exactly a team player.” He turned to Loki. “No offense,” he added.

Loki did not look offended, so Tony took that as a good sign. He turned back to Bruce and asked the Million-Dollar question: “What made you think of that, anyway?”

Bruce hesitated and glanced back towards Loki, then back at Tony. “It wasn’t my idea; only someone with your mind could think up something like this,” he said quietly, then gestured to Loki. “Well, your mind and his,” he added.

Tony looked confused.

“For a genius, you can be incredibly dense,” Loki commented.

“Hey, nobody asked you,” said Tony, frowning at the taller man. “And what the hell is that even supposed to mean?”

Loki rolled her eyes. “It seems as if Dr. Banner had been conversing with our darling daughter,” he said dryly.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Erika gave you the idea,” he asked Bruce flatly. Bruce nodded. “Okay, obviously that kid hasn’t spent enough time with her mother to know that’s a terrible idea.”

“Why is it so terrible?” Bruce questioned. “Nobody has to like him in order to fight with him—he doesn’t even have to fight,” he insisted. “How many times have we needed someone with that strength to rescue civilians from a turned-over bus, or from a collapsing building?”

Tony stared intently at Bruce. “You’re seriously considering this, aren’t you?” he asked.

Bruce nodded.

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face, then turned on his heels and gave Loki a half-smile. “I guess it would be polite to ask the man in question himself, so here goes nothing—How would you like to be an Avenger?”

Loki frowned. “Do I have a choice?”

“Yep.”

“Will you actually acknowledge my choice if I choose not to?”

“Probably not.” Now that Bruce had said something, the idea of Loki as an Avenger wasn’t leaving him alone and wouldn’t leave him alone until he saw said idea come to life. “Bruce has a point—everyone here already tolerates you, and that’s better than how this team started out. Plus, you kicked some major Chitauri ass last week,” he added.

Loki thought about it for a few silent moments, and then opened his mouth to give Tony his answer.

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - - - -

 

Steve, Clint and Natasha were not happy the next time Tony spoke with them. They were beyond not happy, in fact, especially Clint.

“Are you seriously saying you offered that fucker a spot on our team?” Clint asked incredulously. “Because if you’re serious, I may just have to punch you. Did you forget what that little shit did to half of Manhattan—”

“While having his mind controlled by his own Glowstick of Destiny, if I’m not mistaken.”

“—Not to mention what he did to Coulson—”

“Who is alive and well on his way to a speedy recovery.”

Clint took a deep breath through his nose. “Stark, if you say one more word I’m going to punch you in the throat,” Clint warned.

“Wow, you’re seriously not letting the whole ‘mind-control’ thing go, are y-hrrk!” Tony gagged and doubled over, coughing and clutching his throat while Steve restrained Clint.

“That’s enough, both of you!” said Steve. “Now, look—we’ve had a lot going on in the last six months, and we’re all still on edge from the fight last week. Everyone just needs to take a deep breath and calm down.”

“Steve’s right,” said Bruce, and that made Clint take a few more deep breaths—nobody wanted the Other Guy joining the conversation. “Clint, I know you still have trouble coping with what happened to you, but I thought you were adjusting,” he continued.

“Yeah, I was adjusting to having that bastard living in the same building as me—nobody said anything about having to work with him!”

“Did just fine last week,” Tony wheezed, his voice rough. “Christ, Barton, that _hurt_.” He coughed again. “What, so it’s okay for you to make a different call, but nobody else can?”

“At least when Natasha joined S.H.I.E.L.D it wasn’t because I was fucking her!” Clint spat.

Tony should’ve kept his mouth shut, but his mouth said, “You sure about that?” before his brain could stop it, and he ended up with a bloody nose.

The conversation was put on hold due to Tony’s broken nose and Clint’s storming out of the room, followed by Natasha.

 

\- - - - - - - - -

 

Tony was cleaning the last of the blood from his face when Loki found him. The taller man took the washcloth from Tony’s hand and finished wiping the last few specks of blood from Tony’s upper lip. “Barton will burn for this,” he murmured.

“S’not my first bloody nose,” Tony muttered. “I can deal.”

Loki laid the washcloth down and carded his hands through Tony’s hair. “He will not get away with harming what is mine,” he said before capturing Tony’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Tony melted against him. God, he really needed to get laid; he hadn’t had sex in months, not since Pepper—

Tony tensed up and broke the kiss. “I can’t,” was all he said, shaking his head slightly and taking a step back. “Loki, I can’t.”

The look on Loki’s face was a mix of hurt, confusion, and anger. “Do you not remember the relationship we had?”

“No, I remember, I just—”

“Do you no longer desire me?” Loki interrupted, his voice raising in pitch.

Tony gave a humorless laugh. “No, that’s not . . . . No. In fact if I didn’t, this would be a lot easier,” he sighed, gesturing for Loki to sit down, and when Loki didn’t move Tony sighed again and said, “For Christ’s Sake, Loki, just sit the fuck down and let me try to explain!”

Loki still made no move to sit.

Tony raised his arms in defeat. “Alright, fine, don’t sit—whatever.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You were gone a long time. Things change. People change, sometimes for the worse.” He looked at Loki then. “When you . . . when I thought you were . . . dead—”

“But I am not dead,” Loki interrupted. “I’m here, and if you care at all for me as I still care for you then I see no problem in—”

“I’m trying to tell you _why_ it’s a problem!” Tony persisted.

Loki frowned; he was confused and he did not like being confused. “Explain, then,” he demanded.

Tony groaned in frustration, taking a few steps back and scrubbing his hands over his face. “I’m trying!” He took another deep breath. “I fell apart after I lost you, okay?” he admitted. “There! Is that what you wanted to hear? I drank myself numb and I started smoking again, and I didn’t take care of myself.” He paused, ashamed of his next confession. “I wasn’t there for Erika. I gave her everything in the world, but I paid her about as much attention as my old man paid me.” Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. “It hurt to look at her and see your eyes, so I stopped looking. I was in a dark place, especially after I was abducted and nearly killed in Afghanistan, and this woman—this beautiful, brilliant woman pulled me back up. We’ve been together for a few years now; it’s the most stable relationship I’ve had in years, and I can’t just . . . . I can’t . . . .”

Loki shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said quietly.

Tony swallowed. “You were gone a long time, Loki. Hell, I thought you were dead.”

“But I am not,” said Loki, just a little hysterical at this point. “What happened then, what I had to do—none of it matters now because—”

“Because what?” Tony snapped. “What, just because you’re here now, ready to play one big happy family with us lowly mortals, until you get bored and decide to leave again?”

 “Odin demanded that I leave you, there was nothing I could do!”

“Oh, don’t even pull that crap with me! What, just because Daddy tells you to—”

“ _That man is not my father **!**_ ” Loki practically screamed.

“Well then, that’s just so much better! I’m really glad to know that we meant so fucking much to you! Well guess what—too little too late! I’m in a healthy, stable, _normal_ relationship, and I’m not giving that up just because _you_ decide you wanna pick up where we left off! Cards on the table, what’s the worst that could’ve happened if you’d refused, huh? A slap on the wrist? Grounded for a few centuries?”

**“He would have killed you!”**

Silence fell. Loki continued, not even bothering to hide the tremor in his voice. “Had I not done as instructed and altered your memories, the Allfather would have killed you, and would have either banished or killed Erika; the choice was mine—either leave you behind, or watch you die.” He shook his head, moving quickly and capturing Tony’s face in his hands before Tony could move away. He brought Tony in for another kiss, this one softer. They broke apart and Loki swept his thumbs over Tony’s cheeks.

“ _Due err minn skuldalið, min blóð ok hjarta. Ek elska due, Anthony Edward Stark, eða ek am trauðr við  missa due_.”

Tony let out a shaky breath. “I have no idea what you just said.”

Loki kissed him again. “ _You are my family, my blood and heart. I love you, Anthony Edward Stark, and am unwilling to lose you_.”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat and for once, he had nothing else to say.

 

 

 - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, there's the series' namesake. Looking for Old Norse was too hard, so from this point on I just use Icelandic. Also yes, I know, the part about Steve born in the fifties is flimsy -- Steve would be a lot more accepting than I gave him credit for, but to be fair I wrote this after only one viewing of the Marvel movies and without fully understanding him as a character.
> 
> Translated using this website:  
> H t t p : / / w w w . v I k I n g s o f b j o r n s t a d . c o m / O l d _ N o r s e _ D I c t I o n a r y _ E 2 N . s h t m


	16. sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chapter with some Pepper, cuz Pepper's awesome. Also, telling you all up front, I suck at continuity and I tend to write and post without rechecking previous chapters (that's how a lot of this was written)-- it's something I'm working on.

Pepper came to New York not long after Loki’s confession.

Tony was thrilled to see her, but his gut still twisted with guilt when she gave him a kiss. “Is everything alright?” she asked when she pulled away.

Tony swallowed. “Yeah, everything’s just peachy.” He sighed, then admitted, “No everything is decidedly _not_ alright. In fact, it’s pretty far from it.”

Pepper’s smile wavered. “Tony?” she questioned.

Tony sighed again, and then said the four words _nobody_ in a relationship ever wanted to hear.

“We need to talk.”

Tony sat Pepper down, steeling his nerves. “Do you remember Erika’s mother?” he asked.

Pepper hesitated, then shook her head. “I met you after she passed, but I read about the funeral,” she said. “Tony, what is this about?” Her eyes widened. “Is something wrong with Erika? Is that why she’s been in New York for so long?” she asked.

Tony frowned. “Uh, no, the reason she’s been here so long is because I haven’t seen her since after the Stark Expo. She’s fine, Pep, it’s just . . . .” he folded his hands as if in prayer. “Lorna Aven doesn’t exist; she never did.”

There, he said it.

Pepper frowned. Tony pushed forward before she could say anything. “She was a cover, someone to smile for the cameras.” Tony paused, and then continued with, “The attack on Manhatten wasn’t Loki’s first visit to Earth.”

“ . . . . What does Thor’s brother have to do with any of this?”

Tony took a deep breath and took the plunge.

“Everything.”

 

 

 

 - - - - -- - - -

 

“Pepper! Pepper, wait!”

Erika looked up from the sheet music in front of her just in time to see Pepper storm into the room followed by a panicking Tony. “Pep, please calm down,” he begged.

Pepper didn’t listen. She kept walking (stalking) and stopped right in front of the couch where Loki was curled up with a book. Before he had time to react, Pepper slapped him.

“ _What did you do to him?”_ she demanded, her face as red as her hair.

Loki was too stunned to say or do anything.

“You undo it—undo whatever spell you put on him, or I swear I will personally cut off your—”

“For Christ’s sake, Pep, he didn’t do anything!” Tony interjected. “You _know_ he has magic, why is this so hard to believe?”

“Because it’s crazy!” Pepper snapped. “Everything you just told me is _crazy!_ ”

“It’s the truth!” Tony insisted.

“So, basically, what you’re telling me is this man can change his entire molecular structure into a _woman_ , and that he _gave birth to your daughter_ —I am sorry, Tony, I really am, but I can’t believe that!”

Loki cleared his throat. Pepper rounded on him, ready to slap him again, but he caught her arm before it made contact with his face. Shape shifting was one of his natural abilities, so it was no challenge for him to shift from man to woman. In mere seconds, a tall, pale woman with long dark hair sat in Loki’s place. “We haven’t been properly introduced,” she said, a note of challenge in her voice. “Loki Laufeyson, formerly introduced as Lorna Aven.”

Pepper gaped at the now-female Loki sitting on the couch. Loki—or Lorna, rather—released her and she sputtered before shaking her head. “I can’t handle this right now,” she huffed, and then she hurried out of the room.

“Pepper, come on!”  Tony called, running after her.

Loki went back to his book. He was not worried; Tony and this ‘Pepper’ may be together, but he doubted she would be around long enough to be an obstacle.

“Why did you leave?”

Erika’s question snapped Loki back to the present and he looked up, his book once again forgotten. “Pardon?”

Erika met his stare head-on. “When I was little, you made us think you were dead. Why not just tell us the truth?” She swallowed. “Why did you leave?”

Loki sighed and beckoned her to come to him. She crossed the room and sat on the couch beside him. “You must try to understand, Child. In Asgard, to lie with a mortal is discouraged, but not unheard of; to lie with a mortal of the same gender is disgraceful. Odin Allfather is all-powerful; He is judge, jury, and executioner, and his word is law—when he learned of my involvement with your father—”

“He was ashamed of you,” Erika finished. “Would it have been different if Dad were a woman?”

“Yes, but he would still be mortal. Upon discovering that I had a mortal lover, the Allfather demanded that I wipe his mind and return to Asgard. Had I refused, your father would have been killed.”

Erika gulped. “What about me?” she asked. “I know Odin’s as ass, but did he even care that he was taking someone’s mother away?”

Loki snorted. “You are well-acquainted with your siblings, yes?”

Erika nodded.

“Then you know of their banishment; Odin saw them as a threat because of the circumstances of their births, and because of their appearances. He locked Fenrir away and banished Jormungand and Hela, never to return to the realm Eternal. Until your little excursion to Asgard to ‘rally the troops,’ Odin was unaware of your existence.”

Erika bowed her head. “I kinda figured, when I busted into his throne room and he asked who I was.” She looked up, and Loki could almost see the gears in her brilliant mind turning, connecting the dots. “I would have been punished, too—not because of anything I did, but because I’m your illegitimate, half-mortal daughter.”

Loki nodded. “Make no mistake—no matter your heritage, I am very proud to call you mine.” He smirked. “Your father, as well, though he may need time to see things my way.”

Erika bit her bottom lip. “No matter how amazing it would be if you two got back together, I wouldn’t count on it; he really does love Pepper, and I don’t know if he’s willing to giver her up.”

Loki gave her one of his rare smiles, reserved for her and Tony. “Worry not, child; all will be well.”

 

 

 

 - - -- - --- - - -- - -

 

The ‘making Loki an Avenger’ discussion never really continued, but not long after, there was an Avengers emergency, and Tony suggested a Trial Run.

“C’mon, it’s just a few dozen Doombots—nothing too serious,” he argued, eager to get out and kick some Doombot ass—anything to take his mind off his argument with Pepper.

They didn’t really have time to argue.

“Fine, but he ain’t riding with me,” was all Clint said, and that was that.

The doombots were no trouble—they went down like sacks of potatoes. No, the problem arose once all of them had been taken down; turns out, all of them were rigged to blow sky high.

Tony was the first to discover this. He’d just taken down the last bot when it started beeping shrilly. He stared at it for a second and was transported to another time and place—the Stark Expo, where Ivan Vanko and his machines had beeped like that before exploding. “Uh, guys, I think we may need to—”

A deafening explosion from a neighboring building cut him off and he took off before the bots he was surrounded by could blow him to itty bitty Stark bits. The explosion from those bots caused him to have trouble stabilizing in the air, but when he finally recovered there were Doombots exploding all over the place. He found a safe distance to wait it out, and when the dust settled he tried the Comms.

“Everyone okay?” he asked into his Comm.

“Hulk and I are fine,” Steve replied after a few moments of silence. “Widow, Hawkeye, are you alright?”

Widow’s reply was almost instant “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Hawkeye, are you alright?” Steve repeated.

“Barton, what’s your position?”

“Hey, Legalos, say something!” said Tony.

Clint didn’t respond and everyone started to think the worst when a string of static went over the Comm followed by a voice that was decidedly not Barton’s. “Barton is down, he got hit with debris and fell unconscious.”

“What’s your position?” Steve asked.

More static, followed by, “Well, wherever we are it’s dark and there’s quite a bit of concrete. My best guess is under a pile of rubble somewhere.” His reply came out a little shaky.

“Guys, I found them,” said Tony, flying to where the signals from their locators were coming from. “A parking garage collapsed not far from Third street, they’re under there.” To Loki he said, “Can you see any way out?”

“Obviously not or I would have said as much,” Loki snapped. “Even if there was one, there’s not much we can do to get to it—Barton’s unconscious and . . .” a pause, then, “My leg seems to be broken.”

Tony almost asked why Loki didn’t just heal the break with magic, but he remembered the ‘no magic’ dilemma at the last minute and kept his mouth shut. The team all moved towards where Tony’s beacon led them, and then they started in on the pile, making sure to dig without causing a cave-in.

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

When Clint came to, it was with a giant headache and the realization that he couldn’t see anything. “What the hell happened?” he asked nobody in particular. The last thing he remembered was being surrounded by beeping Doombots, and then being tackled. Who had tackled him? Why had they tackled him?

“It seems Doctor Doom has installed a self-destruct mechanism into his latest batch of Doombots,” a dry (pained) voice sounded in the dark.

Loki. Shit. There’s no telling what that fucker could do to him while they were alone.

“Don’t worry,” Loki continued, as if reading his mind. “I’m not in much better shape than yourself and would be unable to incapacitate you even if I had the desire to do so.” A beat, then, “If I’d wanted you dead, I would have let the debris crush you.”

They’d chased Doombots into a public parking building and had managed to take them down, then the Doombots had exploded and Clint and Loki had been buried in the rubble.

Clint blinked. “The ceiling was coming down.”

“You shoved me down and took the worst of it.”

More silence.

“Why?”

A sigh, followed by, “As I said, Agent Barton—if I wanted you dead, you would be.” He said nothing else and they sat in silence until the rest of the team broke through to them.

Clint waved off their concern and made to stand up by himself when a rush of dizziness almost caused him to collapse; he caught himself, though, and made it look graceful.

At least _he_ wasn’t being carried bridal-style—he was never going to forget the indignant sound Loki made when Tony picked him up like he weighted nothing.

Stark’s kid made a big fuss as soon as they got back to base, handing Clint an ice pack before directing her dad to drop Loki on the couch. One of Loki’s kids—the snake, Jordan, or whatever—was with her and made no protests when she asked for help.

“I’m still a little shaky when it comes to healing,” she admitted quietly while Loki’s son knelt before him and placed his hands on Loki’s broken leg. “The biggest thing I can heal is a papercut.”

“You will get better, with patience and practice,” said Loki’s son.

Erika sighed and left the room, then came back with a first-aid kit. “The old fashioned way works, I guess,” she said, looking around. “Who’s up first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's hope for Loki yet :)


	17. seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the point where my Jormungand abandoned all plans I had for him and said "fuck you, I do what I want."

Erika wanted to help on the battlefield, but she was still training. Not long after the doombot attack, she decided to ask Jormungand if he would go one-on-one with her (and maybe show her a few tricks with those knives of his).

“JARVIS, where’s Jormungand?” she asked the AI.

_“Master Jormungand is currently observing Captain Rogers and Miss Romanov in the training room.”_

Sure enough, when Erika got town to the training room she found Jormungand observing from the platform that overlooked the room’s main area used for sparring. His gaze was fixed on the two below, following their every move.

“Observing how us lowly mortals handle ourselves?” asked Erika as she leaned on the rail, standing next to him.

“Not at all,” he murmured. “Just admiring the view. Your Captain’s strength is on parr with that of my uncle’s, and it is quite a sight to see Miss Romanov holding her own against him.”

Erika smiled. “Yeah, she might be a cold bitch, but she’s tough; flexible, too, if you’re wondering.”

“I highly doubt the Black Widow is the focus of my brother’s attentions.”

Erika hadn’t heard Fenrir approaching them and she jumped. Taking a deep breath and glaring at him, she asked, “Oh, really?”

Fenrir nodded. “You have not known him long enough to know that our Jormungand does not care much for the fairer sex, being a bit feminine himself,” he said, giving a deep, throaty chuckle.

Erika’s eyebrows rose. “Is that his way of calling you gay?” she asked Jormungand, who nodded.

“I believe a more appropriate word is bisexual, but I do prefer men,” said Jormungand, still watching the match below. “Is that a problem?”

Erika held up her hands. “Hey, I got no room to judge.”

“Studying magic does not make me ‘feminine’, however, nor does preferring the company of men.” He glanced at Fenrir. “There is, however, nothing weak or disadvantaged about being ‘feminine’ and I could still triumph over Fenrir easily.”

Fenrir growled. “Is that a challenge?”

Jormungand smirked. “Perhaps.”

Erika looked from Jormungand to Fenrir. “Okay, now _this_ , I gotta see.”

Steve and Natasha were done, and they both gave the three siblings a wide berth and wary glances as they came down to the room’s main level. They ignored Erika’s friendly smile and kept their eyes locked on Jormungand and Fenrir, who now stood in the middle of the arena and faced each other.

“No knives,” said Fenrir, motioning for Jormungand to get rid of his throwing knives—a gift from their father.

“No sword,” said Jormungand, an eyebrow raised. “Shall we stick with hand-to-hand?”

“As long as you keep your tricks to yourself.”

Had Fenrir not been imprisoned, he would have made a fine Warrior of Asgard. As a pup, he had enjoyed trailing after Thor and the Warriors Three, eager to learn their ways; He tolerated magic but was not quite as skilled. Jormungand and Hela had taken more after their father and sought to learn about magic and defensive tactics rather than offensive ones.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked Erika, still watching the brothers. Things were slowly going back to how they were before they knew Erika was Loki’s daughter.

“Fenrir called Jormungand a girl and Jormungand said he could kick Fenrir’s ass,” was all Erika said, settling in on a bench to watch the show. While she and Steve had exchanged words, Jormungand and Fenrir had both stripped from the waist up and had discarded their footwear. Fenrir definitely had more muscle than Jormungand, but the taller brother still had an impressive build. They were her brothers, though, so thinking about them in a non-brother way was decidedly ‘ick.’ The match began and Erika noticed right away that while both of them were quick, Jormungand was just a hair quicker.

Not even a minute into it and Erika could already tell Jormungand was showing off, not holding back whether it was offense or defense. They circled each other and traded blows, and every blow Jormungand landed made him hold his head a little higher. He dodged a punch from Fenrir and caught him in the jaw with a high roundabout kick, knocking him flat. Jormungand smirked and put his foot on his brother’s throat. “Now then, what was that about me being ‘feminine?’”

Fenrir growled and pushed Jormungand’s foot away, rolling to his feet and collecting his clothes before storming towards the elevator.

Jormungand simply smirked, taking his time putting his tunic and boots back on.

“You were totally showing off,” Erika said quietly as she met him on his way back in. “I think Natasha thought you were trying to impress her.”

“She would be mistaken,” he said just as quietly, and he nodded to Steve and Natasha, who were still glaring at them suspiciously. “As are you—I did not set out to impress anyone.”

“No, but you were still showing off,” she countered. “Admit it—you’ve got the hots for Captain America, and you were totally showing off for him.”

“I am not dignifying that with an answer,” Jormungand sniffed.

“You should ask him out,” she said, following him into the kitchen. “The worst he can say is no.”

Jormungand sighed. “You’re not letting this go, are you?”

“Nope; this discussion is happening, and it’s about you asking Captain Spangles out on a date.”

Jormungand leaned against the counter and unscrewed the top off a bottle of water. “‘Captain Spangles’ was raised in the nineteen-fourties, which, I believe, was a rather homophobic time period. Your early Midgardian history reminds me of Asgard in all its bigoted glory, and I highly doubt he would be well-received to my advances.”

Erika snorted. “C’mon, he may be old-fashioned, but he’s not a total jerk—I’ve never though of him as a bigot.”

“Oh? Even with his newfound distrust of you, based solely on your parentage?” Jormungand countered, taking another sip of water. “If he were as noble as you claimed, then it should not matter to him whose child you are.”

Erika shrugged. “To be fair, Mom _did_ destroy half of Manhatten; I can understand the wariness. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. This isn’t about me—it’s about you and Cap getting cozy at the Cozy Cone,” she said with a wink.

Jormungand blinked. “Should it worry me that I understood that reference?” he asked dryly.

Erika waved a hand. “Again, not what’s important here. You need to bone up and ask him out the next chance you get.”

“Has it occurred to you that I simply find him aesthetically pleasing, and that I have no desire to court him?”

“So you think he’s hot, but you’re not gonna do anything?”

Jormungand said nothing.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Erika folded her hands together and began pacing back and forth. “So now, the only question is, how to breach the subject of a date to Captain Muscles; I propose a head-on approach—the worst he can say is no, after all.” She stopped pacing as Dr. Banner came into the kitchen and paused when he saw Jormungand and Erika. “Allow me to demonstrate,” Erika said to Jormungand. She then turned to Dr. Banner and asked, “Would you go on a date with me?”

He blinked. “No offense, but no.”

Erika turned back to Jormungand. “See? Easy Peasy Japanesey.

Dr. Banner cleared his throat. “Do I even want to know?” he asked cautiously?

“Probably not.” Erika and Jormungand said at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . he was SUPPOSED to be checking out Natasha . . . . .


	18. eighteen

Erika finished her college classes online so she didn’t have to bother with going back. She missed her friends and promised them all via skype, text, and facebook that she’d see them soon, but it was nice being close to her family again.

Even though she was useless on the battlefield, she tried her best to be there for the team when they got back. Her first aid training was all up to date, so she could help with non-life threatening injuries (and for the life threatening ones she just said “Go to a hospital! My god, why are you even still standing here?)

Every day Erika tried to do physical training with either Jormungand or Hela (She’d broken a few bones the one and only time Fenrir had tried to train her; he still watched and gave her advice, though).

“How was that?” a tired and sweaty Erika asked Hela after a sparring match.

“Much better, though next time you want to make sure your legs are not wider than your shoulders. Also remember—tension slows down attacks. Make sure to keep yourself loose,” said Hela, combing her fingers through her hair. “Your technique could use a little work, but you are improving.”

Erika beamed. “I guess those karate classes as a kid paid off,” she said, sitting on a bench and reaching for her water bottle. “It’s nice having another girl around—well, besides Natasha, but she doesn’t count on account of she kind of hates me.”

Hela didn’t look at her and became fascinated with a spot on the floor.

Erika tilted her head. “Something you wanna share with the rest of the class?” she asked, getting up again to stand beside her sister.

Hela sighed. “I have been away from my realm for quite a while—I think it may be time for me to return home soon.”

Erika gaped. “Seriously? Why? Aren’t you digging your newfound freedom to get the hell out of City of the Dead?”

Hela sighed again. “I’m their queen—it’s up to me to help them pass into the afterlife. Before I left, I appointed my most trusted warriors to do this, and they have done a remarkable job . . . but it is still my duty as Queen of Niflheim. I do not wish to go, but I must.”

Erika swallowed the lump in her throat. “Oh,” was all she said.

Hela gathered Erika in her arms. “I will miss you,” she said quietly. “I will visit as often as I can—I promise.”

Erika said nothing, just held onto her sister and tried not to cry.

 

 - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Hela left, and Erika had to get used to not seeing her sister’s smiling face when she came into the kitchen in the mornings, or when she wanted to have ‘girl time.’

She still had Fenrir and Jormungand, but she wasn’t really that close to Fenrir (Nine time out of ten she wanted to hit him). She and Jormungand were still pretty close, though, and she thanked her lucky stars for that.

One day not long after Hela left, Erika was in the living room doodling when she was struck by a thought.

“We need to get you and Fen some normal clothes, and we need to go out,” she said, knowing that her half-brother was nearby without even looking up. “Nothing too outlandish—maybe a nice button-up and some slacks. We’ll stick to green with you, but with Fen’s brown hair he’d probably look good in either dark blue or red. No offense but the leather and gold sticks out like a sore thumb, and Fen’s furs have gotten more than a few dirty looks.” She looked up at Jormungand. “How would you feel about a haircut?”

“How would you feel about me disemboweling you?” Jormungand asked, not even looking up from his book. “I will tolerate midgardian clothing, but touch my hair and it will be the last thing you ever do.” He reached up to his high ponytail and dragged the long, black hair through his hand.

Erika sighed. “Fine. Jarvis, please schedule a shopping day for the three of us tomorrow. Include stops to Prada, Bottega Veneta, Ascot Chang, Loro Pianna, and Georgio Armani, as well as a visit to our personal tailor. Also, make reservations for three for a late lunch at Daniel. Also make room for a visit to Make Up for Every Boutique and Allen Edmonds.”

“ _Consider it done, Miss Stark,”_ came the AI’s clipped response.

Erika smiled up at a surveillance camera. “Thank you, Jar-Jar, you’re the best!”

_“Of course, Miss Stark._ ”

“Sounds like you two are in for a fun day tomorrow,” said Fenrir as he entered the room. “Please do tell me all about it when you return.”

Jormungand smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be right there with me the whole day, so you won’t miss a minute.”

Fenrir’s nose wrinkled. “The Hel I will—I am nobody’s doll to play dress-up with.”

Erika sighed and hopped off the kitchen stool she’d been sitting on. “Come on, Fen, it’s not even like that! You’re in 21st century New York, you gotta at least _try_ to blend in.”

Fenrir snarled at her. “I absolutely refuse.”

 

 - - - - - - - - - -

 

The Avengers were getting back from a mission when Erika and her half-brothers got back from their day of shopping. Erika came strutting in the room in a new form-fitting green sweater and jeans with gold heels, and the blonde highlights in her brown hair had been redone. Noticing she was alone, she sighed and turned back around to yell at the elevator. “Come on, you look fine!”

Fenrir was the first to follow his sister into the room, and at first none of them recognized him. Gone were the furs and armor, and the long mane of brown hair. Fenrir’s hair was cut to just below his ears and styled in what could be described as a ‘just rolled out of bed’ look, and he was dressed in black jeans and a black shirt that clung to him like a second skin.

He looked . . . . less wild.

“Jormungand, get your butt out here!” Erika called for her other brother.

Jormungand’s hair was still long and still pulled in its high ponytail, but that was the only thing unchanged. The taller brother was wearing black slacks and a green collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a small amount of black eyeliner made his eyes pop.

Erika gestured towards them. “Ta-da!”

For once, nobody had anything to say.

“This is nothing,” said Erika. “Wait until you see their tuxes for the upcoming charity gala next month—I have amazing taste, if I do say so myself.” She then sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen.

“I’m changing back into my armor,” Fenrir grumbled, stomping back towards the elevator.

“This could be a good look for me,” Jormungand murmured, glancing down at himself and straightening his shirt.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Fenrir called back, sneering at Jormungand.

“You’re just jealous that I got to keep my hair,” Jormungand replied with a smirk, pulling the thick ponytail through one of his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooray for makeovers. My headcanon for Jor is a Tom Hiddleston-looking dude (not exact but close--think about that figure skater everyone said looked like Loki) with really long hair and my Fenrir is Richard Armitage with green eyes (I blame my recent Hobbit binge, Richard fits so well with what I've always imagined for Fenrir)


	19. nineteen

Tony couldn’t sleep.

This was nothing new, as he’d been having trouble sleeping ever since the battle of New York; At least with the more recent one he’d avoided any near-death experiences.

When Tony went down to the kitchen he wasn’t at all surprised to see Loki sitting at the counter, calmly drinking from a ceramic mug. Tony joined him shortly after pouring his own drink, something a lot stronger than tea. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Tony decided it was getting a little awkward.

“I’m sorry,” he said tentatively. “About everything that’s happened, about everything that _can’t_ happen.” He waited for Loki to look at him before continuing. “This thing with Pepper . . . . I still want what we had, but I don’t want to lose her. I feel like I’ve lost too much as it is.”

Loki sighed, and he had an almost melancholy expression. Tony was about to try and say something else but Loki’s next words sent a chill down his spine.

“How inconvenient for me that my magic is gone, or I could easily be rid of this woman; I could still easily snap her neck, though.”

Tony swallowed and gave Loki a wide-eyed look. Yup, definitely not the same Loki he’d known (and quite possibly loved). “What the hell happened to you?”

Loki stood from his seat, staring Tony dead in the eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” was all he said before turning to leave the room.

Tony stood up so fast his chair knocked over, and he made a grab for Loki’s wrist.

“Unhand me!” Loki snarled, yanking his hand free. Tony just grabbed it again.

“I’m serious, Loki, what the hell happened to you?” Tony persisted.

“I believe we’ve been over this, Stark—I’m powerless and surrounded by enemies—”

“Not that!” Tony interjected. “Before the battle of New York, before _any_ of this. Thor told us you tried to destroy _an entire world_ , and the Loki I knew never would have done that.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Now I’m gonna ask again— _what the hell happened to you_?”

Loki remained silent.

“I meant what I said, you know—about still loving you.” Shit, he hadn’t meant to use the L-word; oh well, too late to back out now. “Things are really confusing and fucked up right now, but I want you to know _I never stopped loving you_. Fuck, the whole reason I distanced myself from our daughter was because she reminded me of you. I only remembered Lorna Aven, but she’s a part of you and I never could let her go.”

Loki looked skeptical.

“C’mon, you know I’m no good with this kind of thing—what I’m trying to say is you can trust me. You can tell me _anything_ , and I will listen to all of it. I won’t tell anyone and I won’t judge you, because believe me when I say I have no room to judge anyone else’s fucked-up life.”

Loki swallowed and wouldn’t look at Tony. “I doubt my story would hold your interest.” He was trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice cracked.

Tony made a split-second decision and let go of Loki’s wrist long enough to yank his shirt off over his head, exposing the arc reactor and bathing both of them in soft blue light. “Tell you what—a story for a story; you tell me yours, I tell you mine.” He tapped on the reactor. “I’ll tell you about Afghanistan, the shrapnel in my heart, Obie—the whole nine yards.”

Loki tilted his head and stared at the reactor. “I could not bring you under the scepter’s power,” he said quietly, reaching out to lay a hand over the reactor. “All because of this—this one piece of midgardian machinery.” His gaze moved back up to lock with Tony’s. “I will hear your tale, Stark, and I will tell you mine—perhaps.”

Tony grinned, because a ‘maybe’ from Loki was almost always as good as a ‘yes.’

 

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

 

 Telling Loki about Afghanistan wasn’t as hard as Tony thought it would be, but it was still hard. By the time he got to the Battle Royale between him and Obie, he was shaking slightly. He glossed over the palladium poisoning and Ivan Vanko, but still gave enough information to paint Loki a decent picture of what happened.

They’d moved upstairs to Tony’s room and were sitting on his bed, and Tony leaned back against the headboard when he was done talking.

Loki was silent for what seemed like forever. When he did speak, it wasn’t what Tony expected to hear.

“I believe Thor has already informed you that I was adopted.”

Tony nodded once and waited for him to continue.

“Asgardians and Jotuns—Frost Giants—have been enemies for centuries, ever since Odin Allfather and the armies of Asgard stopped the Jotuns from invading Midgard. The battle moved to Jotunheim, the Jotunns’ home world, and they were defeated. Odin took their main power source, and . . . and a babe, abandoned in a temple and left to die. He placed an enchantment on the babe’s skin, causing it to look like an Asgardian, and then he raised the child as his own, in hopes to later unite the kingdoms.”

Loki closed his eyes and Tony had to restrain himself from jerking away from the god.

Loki’s skin had turned blue and his eyes were blood red.

“I was raised to hate the Frost Giants—they were the monsters who hid under misbehaving Asgardian childrens’ beds. To find out I was one of them . . . .”

The initial shock wore off and Tony reached out to trace the raised markings on Loki’s hand. Loki jerked his hand back and said, “Believe me, you really don’t want to do that.”

Tony pulled his hand back in his lap. He blinked, and Loki was back to pale skin and green eyes. “It was after Thor’s banishment that I found out my true parentage—son of Laufey, king of the Frost Giants.”

“Thor was banished because he almost started a war, right?” asked Tony. “He told us he did some pretty stupid things.”

Loki laughed bitterly. “Stupid does not begin to cover it; Thor was nowhere near ready to take the throne—he was brash, boastful, arrogant, and had absolutely no humility. He would have made a poor king, but I was the only one to realize this. I ruined his coronation, yes, but I never intended to get him banished. Thor was gone, and I found out my whole life had been a lie. I had an argument with Odin, and the strain sent him into the Odinsleep, leaving me as acting King regent of Asgard.”

“Is that when you tried to kill Thor and keep the throne all for yourself?” Tony hadn’t meant to say that out-loud, but it still slipped out.

Surprisingly, Loki laughed. “Very good, Stark, yes; my plans backfired, though, and Thor returned to stop me from destroying Jotunheim with the Bifrost. We fought, he destroyed the bridge, and we both fell. Thor held on, but I . . . I let go.”

It looked like talking was causing Loki pain. “I let go, and I fell. I fell, and I fell, through the darkness, all the way to the roots of Yggdrasil.”

“The world Tree,” Tony murmured thoughtfully. “I read about the myths,” he said at Loki’s surprised face, and nodded for him to continue.

Loki licked his lips and he blinked a few times. “The roots of the World Tree were never meant to bee seen—not by any sane man. I was half-mad when the Other found me, and had almost no will of my own. I say almost because I did still have resistance; I didn’t want to be a pawn in someone else’s game, so I refused him.”

Tony recognized the haunted look in Loki’s eyes. “They tortured you,” he said slowly, only just realizing this himself.

“Did you truly believe I would want to rule this realm?” Loki asked quietly. “I never truly wanted Asgard’s throne—why would I want a world as pitiful as Earth?”

Tony frowned. “It’s not _that_ pitiful,” he said. “Beisdes, I thought you liked Earth better than Asgard—at least, I remember you telling me something along those lines.” He held up a hand. “Nope, don’t answer that, getting off track; so, to sum things up, Thor is banished, you find out you’re adopted, you become king, Thor comes back, you two fight, you fall, then the Chitauri torture you and make you do their bidding. Yes?”

“You make it all sound so simple.” Loki sounds tired, and he looks exhausted. “Are you satisfied now, Stark? Do you have the answers you sought? Will you cease your pestering now, and leave me be? I will not sit here and act as if nothing has changed—no so long as your heart belongs to another.” Before Tony could say anything, Loki got up from the bed and left the room.

 

 - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Loki avoided Tony after their late-night heart-to-heart.

The Avengers got called out, and Loki was taken along to help where he could. He worked with Iron Man if it was necessary, but after they beat the bad guy and called it a day, and Tony was out of the suit, Loki went right on back to avoiding him.

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - - - -

 

“Something’s up with Mom and Dad,” Erika commented to Jormungand after witnessing Loki’s avoidance for herself. “I have no idea what happened, but they’re acting like five year olds,” she sighed, stirring her coffee and leaning back against the counter.

“Perhaps your father said something less than savory to mine,” Jormungand suggested.

“Oh, so it’s impossible for the sass master also known as Loki to have said something offensive? Puh-lease,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That man takes insulting people to whole new levels.” After a second, she shrugged and added, “Dad can bee pretty mean, too, though, and I’m sure the love triangle isn’t helping much.”

Jormungand cocked his head. “Love triangle?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Erika gesture with her hands while talking. “Yeah, you know—person A likes person B, person B likes person C, and person C circles back around with their feelings for person A; in this case, though, it’s a case of person A liking both persons’ B and C, with Dad being A and Loki and Pepper being B and C.”

Jormungand snorted. “That’s hardly a triangle; merely a feeble mortal man who can’t make up his mind.”

“Hey, don’t be disrespecting my daddy!” A beat, then, “He _is_ kind of a manwhore, though, I’ll give you that.” She took a sip of her coffee before putting the cup down and hopping up on the counter. She swung her legs and drummed the surface of the counter. “While we’re on the topic of romances, how’s it going with you and your attempts to woo Capsicle?”

Jormungand didn’t answer her.

“Ooh, that bad, huh? How hard did he shoot you down?”

Jormungand mumbled a reply.

“Eh? Didn’t quite catch that, sorry.”

“I said, ‘I cannot be refused if I do not ask,’” he huffed.

Erika’s eyes widened and she stopped drumming her fingers on the counter. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”

Jormungand said nothing.

“Oh my god, it does! You haven’t even _tried_ asking him out, have you?” she asked incredulously, hopping down off the counter. “Jor, come on, we talked about this! Just go for it, the worst he can say is no!”

“No the worst he can say is decidedly worse than _‘no,’_ and I don’t particularly care to hear any of it,” Jormungand snapped. “Erika, please, I know you mean well, but you must trust me when I say that there is very little chance of Steven Rogers ever ‘falling for me,’ as you would say.”

Erika frowned. “But what if he says yes? Why are you so afraid of taking a chance?”

“I know his type—straight as an arrow and probably utterly repulsed with the mere thought of laying with another man,” Jormungand bit out. “There’s a Midgardian phrase that would best describe my feelings—‘been there, done that.’

Erika was confused for all of three seconds before realization dawned on her. “Someone hurt you, didn’t they?” she asked quietly.

“Your powers of deduction are astounding,” he muttered. “If you must know—and I know you will ask—it was before I was banished. I was young for an Asgardian, not a boy but not yet a man. I switched between serpent and human constantly, and when I was human I fell under the charms of a young warrior. He was polite to me, at the very least, and in my naivety I thought his politeness was his way of saying he was interested, since he was the only one who ever bothered to be polite to me. I let him know of my feelings, and it . . . . . ended badly.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Captain Rogers reminds me so much of him—it’s what infatuated me in the first place. This fact alone tells me he will most certainly react in the same way if I was to ‘make a move,’ and I don’t want my already fragile relationship with the Captain to shatter completely.”

Jormungand should have seen it coming, but he was still surprised when Erika threw herself at him and hugged him tight. “I’m sorry,” she said in a shaky voice, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. “I’m so, so sorry, Jor.”

Jormungand didn’t hug her back, but he didn’t push her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst is so fun to write, but it's so painful


	20. twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins, my attempt at making Captain America question his sexuality. From this point on there will be one-sided Jormungand/Steve flirting, mutual flirting, and eventual sexytimes.
> 
> Anyways, on with the show!

 

**\- - - - -  - - - - - - - -**

 

Steve was an early riser—he always had been, and he probably always will be. His morning routine consisted of the following: get up an hour before sunrise, go for a quick jog, then come back and shower before watching the sunrise with a fresh cup of coffee.

Natasha and Bruce were early risers, too, but they were usually still asleep when Steve got back from his jog. Everyone was usually still asleep by the time he got his coffee, so it was a surprise to see Loki’s son Jormungand standing at the kitchen counter wearing slacks and a green sweater, cursing at the coffee maker.

“—Stupid son of a bilgesnipe, why won’t you work!?” Jormungand cursed, bending over to look at the back of the machine. “By the norns, this shouldn’t be that complicated!”

“I’m pretty sure Jarvis could start it up if you asked him to,” Steve said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe with his arms crossed. Jormungand unsettled him, sure, but it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one who still struggled with basic technology.

Jormungand had jumped and whipped around so fast he almost lost his balance. “Ah, Captain. Well, yes, I realize I could ask the household AI to prepare it, but . . . .” he trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed. “Well, after watching my sister do it so many times, I though I could do it.” He ducked his head, a small blush staining his face. “I may have miscalculated this task’s difficulty, however, as I seem to have forgotten which buttons to press.”

Steve hesitated, then decided to take pity Jormungand. “Here, I’ll show you how to work it.” He stepped up to the counter. “Did you fill the reservoir in the back with water?”

Jormungand nodded. “Yes, and I also put the coffee powder into the filter. My only problem is getting the damn thing to work,” he grumbled.

Steve smiled and pointed to the front of the machine before pressing a button that was slightly larger than the others. “All you have to do is hit ‘start,’ nothing to it.”

Jormungand’s face went even redder. “Ah. I hadn’t realized it was so . . . . simple. You must think me a fool,” he muttered quietly.

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “Hey, you’re talking to the guy who had to make a jump from the 40’s to the 21st Century; it’s been an adjustment, to say the least, and I’ve had my share of feeling like a dummy.”

Jormungand snorted. “Try living in Midgard’s oceans for a couple of centuries.”

Steve held up his hands. “I spent enough time in water, thank you very much. Granted, it was frozen water, but it still counts.”

Steve had never really bothered speaking to either of Loki’s son, so it felt a little surreal for him to be standing in the kitchen with one of them comparing how out of the loop they were technologically.

Jormungand had let out a small chuckle at Steve’s attempt at humor and Steve seemed to noticed something about the other man he’d never bothered to notice before. “You know, not that many people are taller than me,” he commented off-handedly. “You’re even taller than your dad.”

Jormungand seemed to shuffle his feet. “This is not my true form—I can change it, if you’d like; make myself a bit smaller, if the height difference bothers you. I know it bothers others.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s fine, just something I noticed.” The coffee pot dinged and Steve moved to get out two mugs. He drank his coffee with a little milk and sugar, and he almost choked on his drink when he saw how much sugar and CoffeeMate creamer Jormungand poured into his own mug. “Jeez,” Steve muttered.

“I have a bit of a sweet tooth,” the taller man confessed sheepishly.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“You know, I don’t recall you ever being quite this chatty,” Jormungand commented while stirring his coffee.

Steve shrugged. “Never really had anything to say; at least, not to you.”

Jormungand saluted Steve with his mug. “Well, then, here’s to bonding over confusing technology and caffeinated beverages. Cheers.”

When Steve finally moved to the balcony to watch the sunrise, he was surprised to see that he’d missed it. Looking back inside to where Jormungand sat curled on the sofa with a book in one hand and his coffee mug in the other, Steve smiled slightly. He didn’t really mind the breach in his routine. Sunrises were a daily occurrence, after all, but something new had happened that morning.

Steve sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair, still smiling.

 

 

 - - - - - - -- - - - -

 

 

Steve was still wary of Loki and his children, but after that morning spent showing Jormungand how to work the coffee maker, things were less tense. Steve was coming to realize that Loki was not evil incarnate, and neither were his kids. Jormungand and Fenrir fought and bickered, sure, but that was normal for brothers, and after some coaxing from Erika and a few new fashion choices, they were at least starting to blend in.

Steve was starting to feel guilty about how coldly he’d been treating Erika and her brothers—the boys weren’t really too bad, and Erika was a sweet kid. That’s why he didn’t put up much of a fuss when she insisted Jormungand and Fenrir attend a charity gala with all of them, and it was also why he let her dress him up in a monkey suit for said gala.

“Relax, Cap, you look fine,” Erika said to him for the thousandth time since they arrived at the gala. “Stop worrying what others think of you and just enjoy the moment.”

Easy for her to say—she looked every inch the stunning Stark heiress the media expected her to be, wrapped up in a backless gold dress with her gold and brown hair in ringlets. “Besides, you clean up pretty nice,” she added with a wink.

“I just wish Thor was still here, so maybe I wouldn’t be the only one feeling out of place,” said Steve. “Tony says Loki’s been to these kinds of parties before, so he doesn’t count.” Only after he said this did he realize what—or who—was missing. “I thought your brothers were coming,” he said, picking up a passing champagne flute.

Erika smirked. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe they just walked in.” She gestured through the throngs of people to the door.

It was like the day she brought them home in regular clothes—Steve hardly recognized either one of them.

Both brothers were wearing black tuxedos with white shirts; the only difference between their suits was that Fenrir’s suit vest was silver, while Jormungand’s was gold. Jormungand still had his hair up in his signature high ponytail while Fenrir’s hair had been gelled and slicked back.

Erika waved them over and as they approached, Steve saw something glint in the light; Jormungand was still wearing his gold snake hoop earring.

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” said Erika as the brothers stopped in front of her and Steve. “Took you long enough, you guys should have been here ages ago.”

“He didn’t want to leave the car,” said Jormungand, gesturing towards Fenrir.

“We look ridiculous,” Fenrir snarled quietly, the savage look on his face looking odd with his tidy appearance. “There’s a reason Midgardians call these ‘monkey suits.’”

“Jesus, stop complaining, you look fine!” Erika sighed. “Honestly, you’re as bad as Steve.” She turned towards Jormungand. “Please tell me you’re aware of how good you look in a tux,” she asked.

Jormungand smirked and shifted his weight and cocking his hips slightly. “I believe the phrase is ‘I’m sexy and I know it,’” he said proudly, which caused Erika to laugh.

“I think you just wasted a perfectly good reference on Cap,” she giggled.

Steve shook his head. “Actually, I understood that reference,” he said proudly. “Clint’s been drilling me on modern music.”

“Well, good for Katniss,” said Erika, plucking a champagne flute off a passing waiter’s tray. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see if I can talk our resident rage monster into a quick dance.” She wandered off through the crowd, leaving Steve, Jormungand and Fenrir to fend for themselves. Fenrir’s attention was grabbed by two women passing by and he went chasing after them.

“I swear to the gods, that mongrel has no taste,” Jormungand sniffed. “There’s absolutely nothing appealing about walking skeletons.” Steve almost missed the way Jormungand glanced at him briefly. “I prefer my men and women with a little more meat on them.”

Steve almost dropped his drink. “ _Men_?” he choked.

“And women,” Jormungand added. “I’m flexible,” he said with a coy smile. “Metaphorically _and_ literally speaking.” His smile widened into a grin as Steve’s face reddened. “Why, dear Captain, I do hope I haven’t offended you.” The look on his face made it clear he didn’t really care if Steve was offended.

“No, not offended, just . . . . surprised, is all,” Steve managed to say. “I gotta say—I never would have guessed.”

Jormungand shrugged, his sharp grin softening. “I don’t advertise,” was all he said, aiming to wander off. Before he was out of earshot, however, he turned back around and gave Steve a look that briefly made him question his sexuality. “That is, of course, unless they’re interested.” He winked, and then sauntered off.

Steve desperately wished he could still get drunk.

**\- - - - - - - - - -**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it begin!


	21. twenty one

The next morning Steve was surprised when Jormungand apologized for being as forward as he had been, and his peace offering was a cup of coffee with just the right amount of milk and sugar. He then proceeded to offer to make breakfast.

“Cooking was a passion of mine before my banishment, and I’ve spent a lot of my time here learning how to cook Midgardian food,” Jormungand explained while mixing batter for French toast. “So far, breakfast is my favorite, just because there are so many different things human eat to get them started. On Asgard, almost every meal consists of mostly meat. Here, people eat things containing what I’ve learned are called ‘carbs.’ Pancakes, French toast, cinnamon rolls, crepes—I never saw any of that on Asgard, except in bread.” The batter was mixed and he set it aside to start cutting up fruit. “The sheer variety astounds me. It also delighted me, since I never truly got many chances to cook back in Asgard. ” Once the fruit was cut he dipped blueberry cobbler bread he’d found in the pantry in the batter and began frying them up.

“So, I’m guessing cooking isn’t really a common warrior’s skill, then,” said Steve as he watched Jormungand.

“It was considered women’s work, along with the mystical arts. Magic,” he simplified at Steve’s confused look. “Men who practiced magic in Asgard were deemed ‘argr’—an insulting slur meant to demean a man and question his masculinity. At first, I tried being more like the typical Aesir male, but quickly decided I wanted nothing to do with them. I still sparred and trained as a warrior, but I also learned magic from my father.” He turned around and looked Steve dead in the eye as he said, “If my father had been at his full power and deemed you an enemy, and had he truly wished to succeed in his plans, you would not be alive today and Midgard would be under his rule.”

“That’s a little boastful, don’t you think?” Steve asked as a plate of French toast was set in front of him.

Jormungand shrugged. “It is truth,” he said, and then finished cooking their meal.

They ate in silence before Steve decided to ask something that had been bothering him. “So . . . Thor called you the Midgard Serpent, and the other day you said this wasn’t your true form. . . ?”

“Indeed it is not,” said Jormungand. “My true form is a serpent, not large enough to encircle the earth as myth suggests, but still large enough to take up a noticeable amount of space. I was growing faster than Aesir children and after a few . . . incidents . . . people became frightened of me, so they took their ‘concerns’ to Odin and he cast me out.”

Steve frowned. “So you didn’t really do anything worth getting banished?”

“Not that I can recall, no.”

They fell silent again until Steve asked, “What about Hela and Fenrir?”

Jormungand sighed and put down his fork. “Fenrir grew even faster than I did, and he was aggressive even for an Asgardian. There was a prophecy, to do with Ragnarok, that claimed Fenrir would kill Odin, so Odin had him bound and chained in a cave beneath Asgard; his big mouth and temper didn’t help, either. Hela’s only crime was looking the way she does.”

Steve looked skeptical. “So Odin banished you because of prophecies and prejudice?”

Jormungand nodded. “Grandfather of the Year he is not,” he said dryly, and then continued eating. After swallowing another mouthful he gave Steve a thoughtful look. “Why the sudden interest in my siblings and me?”

Steve shrugged. “Just curious.”

“How does the saying go? Curiosity killed the canary?”

Steve let out a small huff of laughter. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he corrected, and he couldn’t help but laugh again when Jormungand’s face reddened. “It’s fine, people have to correct me on a lot of things, too,” he assured the taller man. “Remember what I said—you’re not the only one out of place.”

Jormungand’s gaze dropped to the floor, a small smile gracing his lips. He looked up at Steve through his eyelashes, his face still red. “I know I already apologized for my behavior last night, but I still feel like I may have offended you; for that I am truly sorry.”

Steve waved a hand. “Don’t worry, it’s already forgotten,” he assured Jormungand. He went back to his food, never noticing how Jormungand’s smile fell.

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - - - -

 

“This isn’t working,” Jormungand griped to Erika. “I did as you said and expressed my interest via ‘flirting’, and _it didn’t work!_ ” He groaned in frustration. “How many tireless days must I work to get that man into my bed?!”

“Dude, it’s only been a week,” said Erika, not even looking up from her current drawing. “So you flirted a little at the charity thing and made him breakfast—that was only one time. You gotta work a little harder to get Captain Hetero to go gay for you; go out for coffee, go see a movie, take him out to dinner—show him you’re willing to commit.” She paused, and then as an afterthought she added, “ _Are_ you willing to commit?”

“Will commitment keep him in my bed?”

“Yeah, probably.”  
“Then yes, I’m willing to commit.”

Erika ‘hmm’ed, chewing on the end of her pencil. “I’m surprised you haven’t just love spelled him into banging you,” she admitted.

Jormungand paused in his pacing and shook his head. “A spell is much like alcohol—the affected person cannot give their consent, for it clouds the minds and prohibits rational thinking; it wouldn’t be real, and I will not bed any person without their consent.”

Erika looked up from her sketchbook. “Our society needs more men like you,” she sighed wistfully, and then went back to her drawing.

 

 

 - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Operation Star-Spangled Serpent (“By the Nine, does this have to have a codename and does it _have_ to be _that_?”) was put into action following Jormungand’s confession that he would wait for Steve’s consent.

Jormungand _hated_ getting up early, but he had been doing so lately in order to share a morning cup of coffee and a bit of conversation with Captain Rogers. He caught the captain a little earlier than usual one morning, before the man’s post-jog shower, and had to use magic to hide his body’s reaction to a hot and sweaty Steven Rogers (and oh, what he wouldn’t give to share a shower with that man).

Jormungand’s mind was still elsewhere when the captain returned, fresh as a daisy and ready for his morning coffee. “You okay?” he asked Jormungand, who quickly snapped back to the present and nodded quickly, moving to get Steven his coffee.

Steve glanced over at the counter and did a double take. “You baked muffins?” he asked incredulously.

Jormungand frowned. “Do people not eat muffins with coffee?” he asked, worried he’d mistranslated Earth culture (yet again).

“No, people do, it’s just . . . . muffins take a while, and these look fresh . . . . how long have you been awake?” Steve asked, seeming genuinely concerned about Jormungand’s sleeping patterns.

“I had a little trouble falling asleep last night, so I thought I’d make due with time usually wasted with sleep.” It wasn’t a _total_ lie—he just wasn’t about to say _why_ he hadn’t been able to sleep.

“Oh.” Steve glanced towards the muffins again. “What kind are they?”

Jormungand opened his mouth, but then closed it. His eyebrows furrowed as he said “I don’t remember what it’s called. He then went to the pantry and pulled out a plastic jar. He showed the jar to Steve, who just stared at it for a minute before admitting, “I can honestly say I’ve never had a peanut butter muffin before.” He picked up a muffin and studied it for a moment before taking a small bite.

The muffin was devoured within seconds and Jormungand beamed as Steve reached for another one.

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peanut Butter muffins are amazing.


	22. twenty two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this particular chapter, and I think my favorite part will be obvious.

Erika came to breakfast one morning humming an upbeat tune, tapping her fingers against her thigh as she rummaged around in the fridge for something to drink.

“Well, aren’t we chipper this morning,” Tony commented. “What’s got you so cheerful?”

Erika shrugged, still humming. The tune she was humming sounded like something you would hear at a Fourth of July celebration and Tony couldn’t help but think he’d heard it somewhere before. When he finally recognized it he started laughing. “Don’t tell me you found that old World War II footage,” he laughed.

Erika returned his grin with one of her own.

“What footage?” Steve asked. There was something familiar about the tune, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I found a bunch of old World War II propaganda films, one of which you should be familiar with,” she told Steve with a smirk.

Steve sighed. “I saw a lot of propaganda films; the kind of blurred together, to be honest.

Erika’s smirk widened into a grin. “Oh, you’d remember this one—Hey Dad, who’s strong and brave, here to save the American Way?”

Tony just laughed, grinning at Steve. “Oh, I don’t know—who vows to fight like a man for what's right night and day?”

Steve paled. “You didn’t,” he said. “ _Please_ tell me you didn’t.”

“I uploaded it into Jarvis,” said Erika. “Jarvis, be a dear and upload the footage to the TV, please,” she said, heading towards the entertainment room.

Clint was the first one out of the room to follow her and the rest followed, Steve groaning and massaging the bridge of his nose. Only Jormungand remained behind with him, though it was obvious he was curious to see whatever Erika had found. Curiosity won out and he hurried after everyone.

On the television an old propaganda film was starting up. A black and white theater stage was lined with women in short dresses; though the film was in black and white, Jormungand guessed that the women’s outfits were red, white and blue—America’s colors.

_“Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American way?_

_Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right night and day?_

_Who will campaign door-to-door for America?_

_Carry the flag shore to shore for America?_

_From Hoboken to Spokane,_

_The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan!”_

The women on stage continued singing and dancing, and in the middle of them, speaking about something called war bonds, was . . . . . .

Jormungand’s head tilted and he glanced back towards the kitchen.

The man on the stage wore a much simpler costume, but there was no mistaking that costume or the man’s voice. Jormungand and the others watched the entire film. Clint and Tony were laughing, Natasha wore a small smile, and Bruce looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“You never told us you punched Hitler!” Clint howled, doubling over. “Jesus Christ, Steve, this is priceless!”

Steve was still in the kitchen but Jormungand could still see him from where he was standing, and he did not look happy. “I never took you for the theatrical type, Captain,” he admitted, the barest hint of a smile on his voice.

“Not my idea,” he barely heard Steve mumble in response, and couldn’t help but let his smile show at Steve’s blush.

That night, Jormungand asked him about his performance as the ‘Star Spangled Man with a Plan.’

“When I was given the super-soldier serum, I thought they’d finally let me fight. Instead, they put me in a costume and trained me to dance to their tune, selling war bonds to help support the actual heroes—our country’s soldiers.” Steve paused, his fingers drumming against the table. “When my little routine was taken to a place with actual soldiers, I realized just how big of a joke it all was. After that, I decided if nobody would give me a chance, I’d just show them what I could do.” He gave a humorless laugh. “After all this time, though, I’m still surprised that people take me seriously—especially with the costume.”

“That costume,” Jormungand said after a beat of silence. “Practically _oozes_ patriotism.” He gave Steve a coy smile. “It’s a bit much, but I _do_ love a man in uniform,”

Steve snorted. “Please don’t,” he muttered, smiling briefly. “I know you’re just kidding, but still, just . . . don’t.”

“As you wish,” said Jormungand, rising from his chair. “I suppose I should retire for the evening. Have a restful night, Captain Rogers.”

“Night,” said Steve, still blushing slightly at Jormungand’s teasing.

Before Jormungand left, he added, “For what it’s worth, I believe that much like my uncle is worthy of Mjolnir, only you are worthy of what your costume represents—I can imagine no other as Captain America, and it would be an honor to fight alongside you.”

A while later, Steve was passing by the kitchen again and noticed something small and gold laying on the table. He picked it up and turned it over in his fingers—sometime during their conversation, Jormungand had taken out his earring and placed it on the table.

‘Well, he can’t be asleep yet; I’ll just run this up to his room real quick,’ Steve thought, getting up from the chair and heading towards the elevator. ‘I’d hate for him to think he lost it.’

Jormungand had a room on the same floor as Erika and Tony, his room two doors down from his sister’s.

Steve tapped lightly on the door. “Jormungand? You still awake?”

The super-soldier serum had given him heightened senses, so he could hear things other people couldn’t. That was why he could hear a barely-there groan, as if someone were in pain.

Steve knocked again. “Jormungand?”

No response.

Loki’s son also had exceptional hearing, so the fact that he hadn’t yet responded worried Steve.

The door lock released with a click and Steve hurried into the room, heading straight towards the distressed noises. Not even knocking, he opened the main bedroom door.

Steve’s brain short-circuited, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.

Jormungand’s hair fell freely and clung to him in sweaty clumps. He was on the bed, on his hands and knees, stroking an impressive erection and panting for breath, his head bowed, his eyes squeezed shut, his skin flushed pinker than Steve had ever seen it.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he felt his face heating up.

“Um . . .”

Jormungand’s head jerked up and his eyes snapped open. He stared at Steve for half a second before letting out a small, strangled yelp, and in a flash of green light he had vanished from the room.

Steve just stood there, still trying to process what he had just seen. His brain came back online when an extremely loud **“WHAT THE FUCK, JOR!?”** sounded a few doors down, and he almost forgot to leave Jormungand’s earring behind in his haste to get out of that room.

He completely understood why Erika couldn’t look her brother in the eye for a few days.

 

 

 - -- - - - - - - - - -

 

“I need to apologize,” Jormungand began as he came into the main living room where Erika sat on the couch.

Erika looked up from painting her nails. “Huh?”

Jormungand gestured helplessly with his hands. “I feel like I should apologize for . . . .  the other night.”

Erika looked confused for a second, but then it cleared. “Ohhh. Oh, dude, don’t even worry about it—you’re not the first guy I’ve seen naked, and you probably won’t be the last.”

Jormungand blinked. “You have not been able to look me in the eye for three days.”

Erika waved him off, careful not to flick nail polish everywhere. “Well, yeah, if Fenrir just suddenly popped up in your room with a stiffie and randomly jizzed everywhere, wouldn’t you freak out a little?”

“ . . . . actually, once in our youth—”

“No! Nu uh, keep your weird childhood stories to yourself!” Erika demanded. “The point is, I’m over it, and I accept your apology, and we’re never talking about it again,” she said with a note of finality in her voice. After a few moments, she added, “So, who the hell caught you jerking off, anyway? And don’t say ‘no one,’ cuz you wouldn’t have poofed into my room if someone hadn’t caught you with your pants down.”

Jormungand’s face reddened and Erika laughed when he muttered a very faint ‘Captain Rogers.’

“I thought you’d wanna show him what you got,” she laughed, hardly believing she was even having this conversation with her _brother_ , of all people. “Never took you for the shy type.”

“I wanted to seduce the man, not scar him for life. To see what he did must have permanently damaged his image of me,” Jormungand sighed.

Erika snorted. “You’re hundreds, if not thousands of years old, and you’re a healthy, mature adult male—jerking off is normal, and you didn’t open his eyes to a terrible new thing. Hell, I bet you a two pound bar of Ghirardelli chocolate that even America’s golden boy has jerked off before.” She continued painting her nails, not even looking up. “Just do me a favor, okay?”

Jormungand’s head tilted “What would you have me do?”

“The next time you feel like beating your meat to the thought of Captain America, please, _please_ make sure your door is locked.”

Jormungand couldn’t help but chuckle, his face going slightly red. “As you wish,” he promised.

 

 

 

 - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Tony was feeling better than he had in a while, so he decided to use that time productively.

“Hey, Bruce, wanna do some science?” he asked his Science Bro, who was scrolling through a starkpad.

“Hmm?” Bruce looked up. “Oh, um, sure. Let me just finish up, I’ll meet you down in the labs.”

Tony clapped his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear, big guy! Jarvis, boot up the equipment—the Science Bros are back in business!” He left the room in a flurry, already making plans in his head.

A few minutes later, a red-faced Steve walked into the room and sat down heavily next to Bruce, rubbing his hand over his face.

Bruce put down his Starkpad. “Everything okay, Steve?” he asked.

Steve looked at Bruce and nodded slightly, still covering the lower half of his face.

“You sure?” Bruce asked.

Steve nodded again. “Yeah, just . . . thinking about a few things.”

Bruce looked hesitant to leave his friend, but he took Steve’s word that he was okay. “Alright. Um, Tony and I are gonna be down in the lab, if you need us.” He stood up and patted Steve on the shoulder, then left the room.

Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands.

_I wanted to seduce the man, not scar him for life._

Steve hadn’t meant to eavesdrop; he really hadn’t. He’d just heard voices while he was in the doorway and he’d just . . . . froze.

Jormungand had been trying to _seduce_ him this whole damn time, and Steve hadn’t realized he’d been serious. In his time, men hadn’t gone around seducing men—well, some did, but it usually didn’t end well for them.

Steve thought back to every interaction he and Jormungand had shared since that first morning they’d shared coffee, and now it was painfully obvious to Steve that Jormungand had been flirting.

_‘You flirted right back_ ,” a small voice inside his head whispered.

“I was being polite,” Steve muttered out-loud.

Why him? Out of everyone in the Tower, why pick the completely heterosexual man to try and win over?

_“Maybe you’re not as straight as you though,_ ” That voice whispered again, accompanied with a vision of Jormungand kneeling with his hand wrapped round his—

Steve’s jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. “I’m not gay,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “ ** _I am_ not _gay_**.”

“ _You could be bisexual, you know.”_

He _wasn’t_.

. . . . .

Was he?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jor's, ahem, 'big finish' in Erika's room was due to him having the knowledge that Steve saw him jerking off.  
> He's a wee bit of an exhibitionist, plus he likes Steve :)  
> I don't know how I would react to someone spontaneously appearing in my room and jizzing everywhere, but I think Erika's handling it pretty well.


	23. twenty three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not ignoring Loki, I promise. I’m just waiting for something to happen that he can participate in.

 

-          - - - - - - -  - - - - -

 

 

 

Steve meant to confront Jormungand the next day during their morning routine of coffee and whatever new treat Jormungand had baked, but just as he was getting ready to say something, Jormungand’s brother swaggered into the kitchen. He looked Jormungand and Steve up and down, “ _Svo, bróðir, hefur þú tókst að laumast leið þinni í rúminu sínu ennþá_?” he asked, sneering.

Jormungand sneered right back. “ _Ekkert fyrirtæki þitt_ ,” he snapped.

Fenrir smirked. “ _Ég efast að hann myndi aldrei lækka sig til fjandans þig_.” His smile was sharp and cruel. “ _Ekki einu sinni Rannhal vildi láta þig sjúga hani hans - ég veit að þú hefur tekið eftir því hvernig svipuð fyrirliði er hann_.”

Jormungand flinched. “ _Ekki tala um hluti sem þú skilur ekki_!” he snapped, and then glared at Fenrir.

This only made Fenrir laugh.

Steve opened his mouth to ask what it was Fenrir had said, but one look at how upset Jormungand was getting made Steve straighten up and fix Fenrir with a look. “I don’t know what you said to him, but you need to stop,” he said firmly.

Fenrir only laughed again. “ _Hversu sæt, skipstjóra ver hóra hans_ ,” he chortled.

Jormungand’s face was red—from anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell. “ _Taka að aftur_!” he snarled.

“ _Hvaða hluti? Að þú ert hóra, eða að þú láta hann berjast bardaga, þegar hann er ekki einu sinni skilja orð okkar? Sparring passar okkar meina ekkert-þú hefur alltaf notað bragðarefur til bestu mig, en í sönnum baráttunni þú myndi missa-ekki ýta heppni þína, litla bróður_.”

Steve had no idea what was being said, but it didn’t sound good. He didn’t understand why Fenrir was purposefully being hurtful—he could tell it was hurtful, for Jormungand looked extremely upset.

_“Ég vara þig vita, bróðir - horfa tunguna_ ,” said Jormungand, a threat evident in his voice.

Fenrir smirked and opened his mouth to respond.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - -- - -

 

 

Erika was jerked from her sleep when the building shook. “Wha?” she mumbled sleepily. Another tremor and she was shaken right onto the floor. “Jesus!” She scrambled to her feet and headed towards the door to her room.

The Avengers (plus Loki) were up and assembled—well, sort of. It was still earlier than any of them were used to being awake, so they all looked tired. And cranky.

Bruce actually looked a little green.

Erika was about to ask what the hell was going on when they heard Tony’s voice from the other room.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY TOWER?!”

The entire wall of the room leading towards the balcony was gone. Just . . . . gone.

Erika ventured towards the wreckage and saw something she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Holy shit,” she breathed.

Her brothers were in their true forms, out in public, and they were currently having a disagreement that was leveling the neighborhood.

“Is that . . . . . ?” Clint started uncertainly, staring down at the two monsters tearing each other apart.

“Yup.”

Loki didn’t look surprised. “I had wondered when something like this would happen.”

“They got the call from Director Fury not long after, and he was not happy.

After the call, Steve let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

Separating the brothers long enough to sedate them was not fun. Natasha broke her arm in the process, and Steve got swatted into a building hard enough for his ribs to crack. He wasn’t worried—it would heal.

He was more concerned about Natasha. He only left her side when she insisted she’d be alright, and even then he hesitated.

“I’m fine, Steve,” Natasha insisted. “Go help the others.”

Lucky for all of them, Tony had been working on something to disrupt magical signatures—like a magnetic field. He got close enough to the fighting monsters and activated a small grenade before dropping it directly above them.

There was a crackle of energy and both monsters screamed before collapsing, both of them reverting to human form.

Both of them were taken into S.H.I.E.L.D custody, their magic locked tight with restraints that had been fashioned after Loki’s assault with the Chiutari.

“They’re gonna be _pissed_ when they wake up,” Erika sighed as she and Tony walked down the halls of the S.H.I.E.L.D base. She had convinced Tony to take her to where they were being held, and she was hoping that Director Fury would listen to what she had to say.

“This is exactly why I was against letting Norse legends have free reign of the Tower,” said a very angry Nick Fury as he led them to a containment area. “I don’t need these motherfucking monsters ruining my motherfucking city.” He turned and pointed directly at Tony. “I warned you, if shit went south, the blame would be on you!”

Tony didn’t even get a chance to respond before Fury was storming down the halls again.

“Director, please,” Erika began, rushing after him. “I’m sure they have a—well, not a good excuse, exactly, but I’m sure it’s . . . . no, reasonable is the wrong word, too. Shit. Um, Just let me talk to them? Please?”

Fury wasn’t impressed.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure it won’t happen again. Maybe. Pretty sure.” A pause, then, “This isn’t helping my case at all, is it?”

“No, Miss Stark, it is not.”

Another sigh. “Can I at least talk to them?”

“. . . . Fine.”

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

 

“What the Hel was that about?” was the first thing out of Erika’s mouth as she glared at Fenrir. “What the Hel did you say to him? And don’t say you didn’t start it, because I know you did!”

Fenrir lunged forward and snarled at her—like, actually snarled!

“Use your words, doofus!” she snapped. “What did you say to Jormungand?”

He snapped something rude in a language Erika was sure nobody else in the room (beside Jormungand and her) understood.

Erika rolled her eyes and turned to the other side of the room, where a bruised and bloody Jormungand sat and glared at Fenrir.

Erika sat on the other side of the glass. She didn’t say anything—she just waited.

Jormungand would speak, in his own time.

A deep breath, then he muttered something Erika didn’t quite catch.

Erika raised a hand to cup her ear and raised an eyebrow.

Jormungand huffed. “He provoked me. I shouldn’t have let it get to me, but he . . . . he called me . . . something . . . . and it stung. It hurt even worse when he dragged Captain Rogers into it, and I . . . I’ve been called worse, believe me—I don’t know why, but this time was different. This time . . . .” Jormungand shook his head.

Erika’s glare softened. “Will you tell me what he called you?”

Jormungad shook his head, his face flushed a deep red.

Erika sighed and stood up. “I’m going to talk to Director Fury and see when you can come home.”

Jormungand snorted. “I suppose I’ll be lucky to ever see daylight again,” he muttered.

“Don’t say that!” Erika snapped. “Just . . . . don’t. He’ll let you go—He let Mom go, so I know he’ll let you go.”

“The only reason my father is allowed to roam free is because of his lack of magic.”

“. . . . . maybe that’s what it’s going to take for you to come home, then.”

Jormungand looked horrified.

Erika put a hand on the glass. “Look, I know you don’t wanna give up your magic. I get it. I just . . . . really want you to be able to come home, no matter what it costs.”

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

Erika begged Fury to let Jormungand and Fenrir out of S.H.I.E.L.D custody, She begged, and she begged. She told him they could build custom braces, to contain their magic, so things like this wouldn’t happen again. They could limit the brothers’ access to certain places in the tower, always separate from each other until they could learn to be civil with each other again.

“Please, Sir,” Erika begged, her voice giving out from all the talking and crying she’d done. “I just want my brothers back. Please.” She took a deep breath.

She had one more thing to offer, and she knew the Director would cave.

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

“How the hell did you convince Fury to let them out?” an incredulous Clint asked Erika as she and her brothers exited the elevator to the main living floor.

Erika winked at him as she motioned at Jormungand to go fix the hole in the wall. “Skills,” was all she said as she watched her brother’s magic repair all the damage he and Fenrir had caused. When he was done, he dragged his feet back to Erika and stuck his wrists out towards his sister.

“Sorry,” she said quietly as she fastened thin metal bracelets around Jormungand’s wrists.

Fenrir tried to bite her when she tried putting his on, and she slapped him across the face, hard, before clamping the bracelets around his wrists, making sure they pinched him.

“What are those for?” a wary Bruce asked.

“The Director has been oh-so-kind enough as to release my brother and me, on the condition that our magic be bound,” Jormungand muttered, glaring at his wrists.

Bruce seemed to relax at his words. “Well, you two should really see a doctor—you don’t look so good.”

They really didn’t—Fenrir had a split lip and Jormungand had a nasty gash on the side of his cheek. Both of them had bruises and cuts all over their faces and hands.

Out of the two of them, Jormungand looked the worst.

“I’ll take them down to Medical in a minute,” said Erika.

Fenrir spat something else in his and Jormungand’s mother tongue and Erika fought the urge to slap him again. “On second thought, I don’t think Fenrir needs immediate attention—Clint, would you please take my brother back to his room?” she asked, glaring at Fenrir, who glared right back. “Taser his ass and drag him back, if you have to,” she added.

Clint opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then shrugged and nodded. “Come on, Fido—you heard the lady.”

Fenrir growled at him and Erika sighed before pulling out her taser and pointing it at Fenrir. The wires hit home and he convulsed before collapsing in a heap of dead weight.

Clint grabbed Fenrir’s arms and began dragging him back towards the elevators, cursing all the way,

Erika watched them go. “Come on, Jor, we need to get those cuts checked out,” she sighed.

“I think I may have broken something, as well,” said Jormungand quietly. “It hurts to breathe.”

Erika’s eyes widened. “Shit. Okay. Medical. Now.”

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

Steve was getting pain medication for his ribs when Erika and Jormungand came into Medical.

Jormungand looked terrible.

Steve accepted the prescription (extra strength for his higher metabolism) and headed out to the lobby, where Erika was helping Jormungand fill out paperwork.

“Remind me to sign you up for health insurance,” Erika said, not looking away from the forms in front of her. “Also, remind me to set up some records for you—birth certificate, I.D., dental records, that sort of thing.”

Jormungand remained silent, staring at the floor.

Steve decided to try his luck. “Hey,” he greeted the two of them.

Erika looked up briefly. “Hey. How’re the ribs?”

Steve shrugged, then winced. “They’ll heal.” He looked at Jormungand. “You and I need to talk,” he said seriously.

Jormungand didn’t look up.

“I heard you, you know. When you and Erika were talking.”

“About _me_.”

Jormungand’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. He looked mortified.

Steve gave him a hard look. “Later, we’ll talk,” he said, giving Jormungand an ‘are we clear?’ look.

Jormungand swallowed and nodded.

“Good.”

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Out of all of them, Steve was the most curious about what had set Jormungand off.

“JARVIS, do you have audio of the conversation Jormungand and Fenrir had right before their fight?” he asked the AI, sitting in the kitchen.

“ _Of course, Master Rogers. Would you like me to play audio and translate?”_

“Yes, please.”

A moment of silence, than Fenrir’s gravelly voice filled the kitchen.

_“So, brother, have you managed to sneak your way into his bed yet?”_ JARVIS translated.

Steve’s eyes widened.was Jormungand’s reply.

_“ **None of your business** ,” _was Jormungand’s reply.

_“I doubt that he would ever lower himself to fuck you. Not even Rannhal would let you suck his cock--I know you've noticed how similar the captain is to him.”_

Steve’s face reddened.

_“ **Do not talk about things you do not understand**!”_

Steve heard his own voice filled the room. “ **I don’t know what you said to him, but you need to stop**.”

Fenrir’s rough laugh. _“How sweet, the captain defends his whore.”_

_“ **Take that back!”**_

_“Which part? That you are a whore, or that you let him fight your battles, when he does not even understand our words? Our sparring matches mean nothing—you have always used your tricks to best me, but in a true fight you would lose—do not push your luck, little brother.”_

_“ **I warn you know, brother--watch your tongue!”**_

“JARVIS, stop,” Steve said quickly, trying to keep the bile from rising in his throat.

He’d heard enough.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Google Translate, so the Icelandic probably sucks. Sorry.


	24. twenty four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at pacing, sorry.  
> Also you know where some guys say they'd go gay for certain actors and singers? That's where I'm going for with this. In my head Steve's bi and prefers women, but he's willing to make an exception for the right guy ;)

Jormungand did not want to talk to Steve.

He didn’t want to feel more humiliated than he already did.

Steve cornered him, though, not long after Jormungand and Fenrir’s fight. The Super Soldier took him completely by surprise one night while he was getting a glass of water (and how strange it was, Jormungand mused, that he could not simply conjure a glass of water).

Steve was in the doorway and cleared his throat. Jormungand flinched and dropped the glass in his hand, and flinched again at the sound of breaking glass. He waved his hand, expecting a shimmer of green magic to repair the glass. When nothing happened, Jormungand stared at his hand for a few seconds; at the thin bracelet around his wrist, blocking his magic.

He’d forgotten.

“We need to talk,” said Steve, not moving from the doorway.

Jormungand said nothing.

“Were you ever going to tell me you were flirting with me?”

Jormungand cringed. “Straight to the point, I see,” he muttered. “No, Captain, I was rather hoping you’d ‘get the message,’ as the saying goes.”

“Steve.”

Jormungand frowned. “What?”

Steve sighed. “You’ve been trying to seduce me, the least you could do is use my name. Look, I’m not mad about the flirting—a little weirded out, sure, but not mad.” He paused. “I had JARVIS translate your conversation with Fenrir, right before . . . . .”

“Before we levelled half of Manhattan,” Jormungand finished.

Steve nodded. “What he said to you, what he _called_ you—that’s not okay.”

Jormungand fought the blush he felt creeping up his neck. “I’ve been called worse,” he managed to say, his voice cracking.

Steve shook his head. “Look, I know you’ve had it rough, and I’m sorry.” He paused. “You’re a good man, and I’m flattered you’re interested, but I’m not . . . I don’t think I’m . . . .” he trailed off, at a loss for words.

“You are not _hommi_ ,” said Jormungand quietly.

Steve didn’t ask for a translation.

He didn’t need one.

Jormungand swallowed. “I apologize for any discomfort I have caused you, Capt—Steven. I promise you, I will . . . . I will keep my distance.” His head bowed low, Jormungand moved to pass Steve.

The shorter man caught his arm, catching him by surprise.

“I’m sorry, Jormungand,” said Steve sincerely. “I really am. I’d like to still be friends, if that’s okay with you.”

Jormungand swallowed thickly and gave Steve a sad smile. “My dear Steven, any time I may spend with you is a blessing,” he said quietly, and Steve could tell he was doing his best not to cry. “Right now, though, I think I’d like to be alone.” He tugged meaningfully at Steve’s hold on him, and Steve let him go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

Erika found Steve later, and she was _livid_.

**_“What did you say to him?!”_ **

Steve didn’t even look up from his drawing pad. “Nothing he didn’t need to hear,” he said firmly. “Jormungand’s a good guy, but I’m not interested. It would have been cruel for me to lead him on.”

Erika gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, okay, but you totally have been leading him on—you know that, right?”

Steve frowned. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have! He’s been flirting with you, and you’ve been flirting right back!” she snapped. “You’re not stupid—you know what flirting is!”

“Yeah, but I’ve never had a _man_ flirt with me!” Steve snapped back, dropping his pencil. “In my time, men didn’t flirt with other men—I thought he was just being friendly!”

Erika rolled her eyes. “It’s the Twenty-First century! Guys can flirt with guys now, it’s not a crime! Jesus Christ, Steve, _you made him cry!_ Do you know how weird that was for me? I went to check on him, and he was curled in a ball crying gross, snotty tears! And do you know why?”

“Look, I already apologized to him—”

Erika held up a hand. “I know you did—he doesn’t blame you, he blames _himself_.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “Why?”

**“ _Because he hates himself, that’s why_** _!”_

Steve’s eyes widened.

Erika took a deep breath. “He hates himself, and he hates that he can’t be what passes for normal in Asgard—a big, beefy, maiden-wooing warrior. Instead, he’s skinny by Asgardian standards, he’s bi, and he’s a mage. Sorcerer. Whatever they call it.”

Steve shook his head. “Jormungand doesn’t care what other people think of him.”

“Yes, he does. He puts on a good show, but that’s all it is—a show.” Erika swallowed. “Only three people in his life know that, and one of them uses it against him all the time.”

Steve let out a small breath. “Fenrir.”

Erika nodded. “Brother of the Year, he is not. I swear, if the guy weren’t a hundred times stronger than me . . . .”

Steve swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

Erika sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to turn you into the bad guy, okay? It just . . . really sucked, seeing him so upset. I’m not trying to guilt trip you, either, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just . . . . ugh. He just _had_ to fall for _Captain Hetero_. No offense,” she added.

Steve cracked a smile. “Captain Hetero, huh? That’s a new one,” he admitted. He sighed. “Was I really flirting back?” he wondered out-loud.

Erika shrugged. “If he were a woman, would you have responded differently?”

Steve thought about all the conversations he’d had with Loki’s son. He thought about when he’d seen him at the Charity event, and then when Jormungand had made breakfast. He thought about their mornings together sharing a pot of coffee, comparing notes about their lives, talking about everything and nothing.

He thought about how free Jormungand had been with him about physical contact, and how he didn’t touch anyone else in the Tower nearly as much as he had with Steve.

If Jormungand had been a woman, would he have responded differently?

Before Erika left, she took a quick look at what he’d been drawing. “Nice likeness,” she said with a small smile. “You should show it to him—he’d like it.”

Steve blinked and looked down at what he’d been drawing. He hadn’t been paying much attention—just moving on autopilot.

A perfect pencil sketch of Jormungand stared back at him.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

Everyone was on edge around the brothers now, like they might explode at any given moment.

“Honestly, Clint, he’s not going to do anything,” Erika sighed as Clint watched Fenrir get coffee with narrowed eyes.

“Remind me again why Director Fury let them go,” asked Natasha, one arm still in a sling from the brothers’ fight.

Erika tapped one of her wrists. “No magic means no sudden magical transformations or city-levelling fights.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at the younger woman. “There’s something you’re not telling us,” she said. “Even with the new restraints, it would’ve taken more for Fury to let them come back.”

Erika said nothing.

Natasha leaned forward. “Erika.”

Erika looked at Natasha.

“What did you give him?”

Erika swallowed. “Something he’s wanted ever since my mother decided to invade Manhattan.” She stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment I need to get to.”

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

“What is she giving you?”

Director Fury didn’t look away from the one-way mirror and the observation room on the other side. “Nice to see you, too, Agent Romanov.”

“She’s just a child, Nick.”

“I am aware of that. Rest assured, Miss Stark has offered us something that will help S.H.I.E.L.D be prepared for the next major threat that comes knocking on Earth’s door,” he said in a calm, even voice, nodding towards the observation room.

Natasha stepped up beside him and focused on what was in the other room.

Erika Stark was strapped to an upright observation table and was hooked up to various machines. A nurse was drawing a sample of her blood.

It didn’t take long for Natasha to connect the dots.

“You want her magic.”

“Loki was out of the question for observation, as were his eldest children. Miss Stark, however, has offered us whatever magical properties we can extract from her.”

“So this is the price she paid for her brothers’ freedom.”

“Not too steep of a price, if you ask me.”

Natasha didn’t respond.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

One of the perks of having a billionaire as a friend and teammate, Steve decided, was that said teammate didn’t even bat an eye when Steve asked to use a Stark Industries jet to go to DC.

Upon further reflection on his and Erika’s conversation, Steve had realized two things. The first thing was that the more he thought about it, the less ridiculous a relationship between him and Jormungand sounded.

The second thing he realized was it didn’t matter if he was attracted to Jormungand—he was still holding on to someone else.

Someone who he, until recently, thought had passed away.

Peggy Carter was still alive, though, and she was in Washington, DC.

Before he could embrace the future, he had to let go of the past.

The frail elderly woman in the hospital bed looked nothing like the tough young woman Steve had met all those years ago, but her eyes still held the same fire.

“I wondered when I’d be seeing you,” was the first thing she said to him when he followed a nurse into his room. “Took you long enough.”

“I had a few things to take care of,” said Steve, sitting down in a chair next to the bed. “How are you, Peggy?”

“Oh, besides the wrinkles, liver spots, and organ failure, I’m doing just peachy,” Peggy replied dryly. Then, with a soft smile, she said, “You look good, Steve.”

Steve smiled, but then the smile vanished.

Peggy frowned. “I know that look. What’s wrong?”

Steve sighed. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”

“You haven’t been able to hide anything from me since the day we met.”

Steve nodded. “Fair enough.” He took a deep breath. “I’m having a . . . an identity crisis, I guess you could call it. I met someone, and he’s . . . .” he trailed off.

Peggy’s eyebrows raised. “ _He?_ Goodness, I take it back—there _is_ something you’ve been hiding,” she said, amusement lacing her words.

Steve couldn’t help but smile. “Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are. Here’s the thing, though—it’s not men. It’s just _him._ I found out he’s been flirting with me, and at first it was weird, but now . . .”

Peggy squeezed Steve’s hand. “It’s a new era, Steve. People have more freedom than they’ve ever had, including the freedom to love who they want.”

Steve shook his head. “There’s still a lot of hatred in the world. Did you know that only sixteen countries and seventeen US states have legalized gay marriage?”

“Well, that’s more than what we had in 1945,” said Peggy, still smiling. “The world is changing, for the better.”

Steve nodded.

Peggy gripped his hand tighter. “There was another reason you came here.”

Steve swallowed. “I think I might want to try moving forward, but before I can, I have to . . . .”

Peggy’s gaze softened. “You have to let go.”

He nodded again. “I’ll still visit, if you like. Maybe if—when we get everything sorted, I can . . . bring him here. To meet you.”

Peggy’s smile lit up the whole room. “I’d like that very much.”

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

Planning to ask someone out on a date and actually asking them, as it turned out, were two totally different things.

Steve needed professional help.

Maybe Tony stark wasn’t the best person to go to.

“I’m sorry, am I hearing you right?” an incredulous Tony asked Steve, lifting his welding goggles and staring at Steve like he’d sprouted a second head.

Steve sighed. “Please don’t make me repeat myself, Tony. Can you help me or not?”

“Can I help you get a date with the World Serpent—that _is_ what you’re asking, isn’t it?”

Steve’s jaw clenched. _“Tony_ ,” he ground out.

Tony held up his hands. “Okay, jeez, don’t get your spangled tights in a bunch. Yeesh.” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, too late remembering that his hands were currently covered in grease, grime, and unidentified assorted goo. “Look, Cap, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but romantically speaking, my relationships—past and present—are kinda, well, down the drain right now. Loki’s not even talking to me, and I’m on thin ice with Pepper. But, hey, y’know, if you’re looking for a one-night stand, I’m totally your guy!” He paused. “Wait that came out wrong. _I’m_ not your guy. Eh, you know what I mean.”

Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Bruce was even less help than Tony.

“Sorry, Steve, I know I’m not much help,” the doctor said gently.

“Not your fault,” said Steve.

Maybe Clint could help.

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - -

 

Clint couldn’t help. In fact, Steve was never asking dating advice from Clint ever again.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

At the end of his rope and with an impressive migraine building (impressive due to the fact that he no longer suffered from migraines), Steve decided to just go for it, which ended up being him just blurting out something the next time he saw Jormungand.

“I beg your pardon?” Jormungand asked after a moment’s hesitation.

Steve chewed on his lower lip. “Would you like to go to dinner? With me?”

Jormungand swallowed. “Captain Rogers, if this is your idea of a joke—”

“No,” Steve said quickly. “No, it’s not. I mean it. I’d like to have dinner with you. If you want. You don’t have to. I’m just going to stop talking now.”

Jormungand continued to stare at him. “And what in the nine realms, may I ask, brought this on? The last time we spoke, you made your feelings explicitly clear.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing—I don’t think I was sure how I felt. Now, I’m pretty sure. Mostly. There’s still a little doubt. Okay, this time, I really am going to be quiet.”

Jormungand couldn’t help the small smile that curled at the corner of his mouth.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this kind of a believable pace? Maybe? No? Okay.


	25. twenty five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and to the courtship begins. It's gonna be brief and there be sexy times on the horizon (Idk how long people normally wait, but I'm not patient).

Jormungand was pacing the main living area the next time Erika saw him.

“Hey,” she greeted. “You okay?”

Jormungand paused in his pacing. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’m trying not to examine my feelings too closely.”

Erika plopped down on the couch. “Why? What happened? Is Steve being an insensitive jerk again?” she demanded, making to stand up again. “I swear, if he said anything else to hurt you—”

Jormungand held up a hand, “Peace, Little Sister. Steven has not wronged me.” He bit his lower lip.

Erika looked wary. “Okayyyy . . . ?”

Jormungand took a deep breath. “He asked me to dine with him. I believe the word for it is a ‘date.’”

Erika’s jaw dropped, then snapped back up and she _squealed_. “Ohmy _goodness_ that is amazing!” she shrieked, bouncing up and down. “I’m so happy for you right now!” she leapt from her spot and wrapped her arms around his tall frame. “You _have_ to let me plan your wedding!”

Jormungand blushed. “ _Wedding?”_ he practically yelped. “ _We haven’t even had dinner yet!_ ”

Erika let go. “Right. You’re right. Sorry.” She was still bouncing. “Still, if you do decide to get married, I want to plan it!”

Jormungand let out an amused huff. “If there is a proposal, you will be the first to know.”

Erika nodded. “Good.” A beat of silence, then, “So, where’s he taking you?”

Jormungand opened his mouth to reply, but closed it after a few seconds. “I have no idea.”

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

Steve swallowed and fidgeted with the collar of his dress shirt for the thousandth time. He looked around, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the upscale restaurant he and Jormungand were at. “I’m starting to regret letting your sister set this up,” he admitted.

“Would you rather we dine somewhere else?” Jormungand asked. “Erika won’t take offense.”

Steve bit his bottom lip. “Well, it would seem kinda silly to leave now that we’re already seated,” he said. “I’m fine, I’m just—”

Jormungand reached over the table and offered his hand.

Steve took it.

Dinner was good, if not filling (though to be fair, Steve had had to up his calorie intake drastically to keep up with his ‘Super Soldier’ metabolism). Steve hadn’t really planned anything past dinner. He said as much, and Jormungand chuckled.

“Dinner was enough,” he promised. “You need not keep me busy with meaningless activities.” He paused. “Though, isn’t dinner usually followed by coffee?” he asked, eyeing a small coffee shop on the other side of the street.

It was Steve’s turn to laugh. “You’ve got a problem,” he said good-naturedly.

“Asgard has no caffeine, and I’ve been banished to the oceans for as long as I can remember,” Jormungand sniffed defensively. “There’s no harm in indulging.”

Steve laughed again. “Fine, just don’t give yourself diabetes,” he said with a soft smile.

He wasn’t surprised at all when Jormungand ordered the sweetest drink on the menu. “So,” he said once they had their coffee. “I’m a little rusty, but I think we’re supposed to tell the other person about ourselves now, since there wasn’t much talking during dinner.”

Both of them had been too nervous to talk much, but sitting and drinking coffee together was familiar to them.

Jormungand snorted. “What’s there to tell? You know of my past, and I know of yours.”

“Yeah, but beyond that and the fact you’re one hell of a cook, I know next to nothing about you.” Which was sad, because he’d already been technically living with him for how long now?

Jormungand pursed his lips. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to say I like long walks on the beach under moonlight?” he asked dryly, smiling slightly.

Steve smiled and shook his head. “Here, I’ll start—before the war, I wanted to be an artist.”

“An artist?” asked Jormungand, a smirk on his lips. “Would you draw me like one of your French girls?”

Steve snorted into his coffee. “Jesus, Jormungand,” he laughed. “Alright, your turn.”

“Oh, very well,” Jormungand sighed. “You already know of my passion for cooking, and my less-than superb relationship with my fellow Asgardians, my brother included. I trained hard to be a warrior, but trained even harder to be a mage. I spent more time in my Asgardian form, whereas my brother preferred the brute strength of the Wolf.”

Steve swallowed and decided to ask something he’d been thinking about ever since the brothers’ fight. “Who’s Rannhal?”

Jormungand put down his coffee. He looked suddenly ill.

“You don’t have to answer,” Steve said quickly. I just . . . I was just curious.”

Jormungand nodded slightly. “It’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “Rannhal was—is a warrior of Asgard and a member of Odin’s army. In my younger days, he was . . . . polite to me, when nobody else was. I mistook it for something more, and I soon found myself in love. I gathered my courage to talk to him, to see if he felt the same . . .”

Jormungand was shaking slightly and Steve moved to gently grab his hand, as Jormungand had in the resteraunt. “Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything else.”

Jormungand offered him a shaky smile. “I believe it’s your turn. Why did you wait until the Super-Soldier serum to join the military?”

“I wasn’t in the best health,” Steve admitted. “I was barely over five feet and had a ton of health problems—asthma, scoliosis, heart arrhythmia, partial deafness, stomach ulcers—you name it, I probably had it. The army kept turning me down, but I kept trying. My best friend called me a dumb kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run from a fight.” His smile turned sad. “I wish you could’ve met him. He was a good guy.” He cleared his throat. “There, your turn.”

They went back and forth like that for a while, until Steve noticed how late it was getting. They left the coffee shop and opted to walk instead of taking a cab, still talking back and forth until they got back to the Tower.

“So,” said Steve once they were in front of the elevator. “That was . . . okay.”

Jormungand ‘hmm’d, waiting for the elevator—Steve preferred the stairs, but Jormungand decided he’d like to use the closest thing to teleportation Stark Tower had.

“I’m as new to the whole ‘date’ thing as you are, and I know kissing your date goodnight is a thing that’s supposed to happen, but—”

“Do not do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Jormungand said, turning his head slightly to look at the shorter man. “On this, Steven, you have my word—I will not push you.”

Steve looked mildly irritated and amused at the same time. “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say I’m a little out of practice, so any kissing we do isn’t going to wind up on anyone’s Top Ten list.” He reached for Jormungand’s hand again. “I actually had fun tonight, and I’d like to say goodnight to you—properly.”

Steve was right—the kiss wasn’t really that great. Still, Jormungand came away from it short of breath.

The elevator dinged.

“That’s your ride,” said Steve with a small smile, turning towards the stairs. “Night.”

Jormungand let out a strangled ‘goodnight’ and boarded the elevator. Once the doors closed, he leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes, biting his lower lip and smiling like a complete idiot.

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - -  - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

“Ooh, someone’s in lo-o-ve,” Erika sing-songed when she saw Jormungand the morning after his and Steve’s date. “How’d it go, Casanova?” She looked him up and down. “Waiting until the third date to bone him?”

Jormungand frowned. “I don’t remember you being quite so crass when we first met.”

Erika shrugged. “Shit happens. So, when’s the second date? And don’t say ‘there’s not going to be a second date,’ because that is the dopiest smile I’ve ever seen on you.”

Jormungand huffed and said nothing.

“Did you at least get a goodnight kiss?” she pushed.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, but yes, Steven kissed me goodnight,” he said quietly into his coffee mug.

“That is _awesome_!” she squealed.

“Well, someone’s chipper this morning,” said Tony as he entered the kitchen. “What’s got you so excited, Kiddo?”

Erika opened her mouth, the snapped it shut again and looked at Jormungand, who huffed and said, “Tell him if you must.”

Erika beamed. “Jor had a da-a-te,” she sing-songed.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “No kiddin’? Well, good for you, Bean Pole,” he said, grabbing himself a mug of coffee. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

Jormungand opened his mouth to snap back, “None of your business,” but stopped when Steve came into the kitchen.

“Hey,” said the super soldier to Jormungand. “I didn’t see you this morning—you okay?”

Jormungand nodded. “I felt like sleeping in.”

“Oh. Okay.” Silence, then, “So, I was wondering . . . . If you’re up for it, maybe we could grab lunch? Bruce showed me this really good Thai place . . .”

Jormungand smiled gently. “That sounds wonderful. Just give me a moment to get ready.”

“Right. Okay. I’ll just, um, go get ready.” He finally noticed they weren’t alone and blushed slightly. “Hey, Tony, hey, Erika.”

Both Starks waved, and Steve left.

“Holy shit,” said Tony. “I thought he’d been kidding.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

 

 

They decided to take it slow. Steve was still adjusting to the fact that he was attracted to another man.

“I will gladly take whatever you are willing to give,” Jormungand assured him. “I will wait for as long as you need me to.”

Steve smiled. “The world needs more guys like you.”

Jormungand was about to respond when the alarm went off.

Jormungand glared at the ceiling, as if it were J.A.R.V.I.S’s fault that there was an Avengers emergency.

They were in Steve’s room, cuddling in his bed. Jormungand stayed and watched him suit up, which made Steve blush slightly. Jormungand smirked and gracefully stood from the bed. He took Steve’s mask from the soldier’s hands and slipped it onto Steve’s head before leaning forward for a lingering kiss. “Be safe,” he said quietly.

Steve smiled and returned the kiss. “I always am,” he replied.

“Liar.”

One more kiss, then Steve really had to go.

Jormungand could do nothing but wait for his Captain to return.

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

The fight was brutal.

The Avengers almost lost.

When they returned to the Tower, bloody and beaten, Erika ran right for Tony and latched onto him, holding him tight.

Jormungand went straight to Steve, who was favoring his right leg.

“I told you to be careful,” Jormungand growled.

“I was,” said Steve, still a little breathless.

“Liar.”

Jormungand pulled Steve in for a kiss. Neither one of them cared that they had an audience.

Both of them decided that ‘taking it slow’ could take a flying leap, and Jormungand came to breakfast the next morning in one of Steve’s shirts and a pair of Captain America boxers, looking like the happiest man in the world.

If it seemed like he was having trouble sitting comfortably, nobody said anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh, giggity


	26. twenty six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danger, Will Robinson—there be shameless porn ahead!
> 
> This is why the rating is higher than the first story
> 
> This is the last disclaimer until the end of the story, so here we go—Erika belongs to me, Jormungand and Fenrir belong to everyone and no one, and everyone else belongs to Marvel. I’m not making money off of this.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - --

 

 

 

Loki watched the budding romance between his son and Steven Rogers with mixed feelings. He was happy for his son, but he knew first-hand how fickle mortal men were—they were quick to love, but even quicker to move on.

He said as much to Jormungand, but his second eldest didn’t seem worried.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

“ _Let it go, Let it go!”_

“Please stop.”

_“And I’ll rise like the break of dawn!”_

“I’m serious.”

_“Let it go, Let it go!”_

“Erika, I’m begging you.”

_“That perfect girl is gone!”_

“Stop or I’ll be forced to take drastic measures.”

_“Here I stand, In the light of day!”_

“Ugh, I hate this song.”

_“Let the storm rage on!”_

“For the love of God, STOP.”

_“The cold never bothered me anyway!”_

. . . . .

“Are you finished?”

“Yep.”

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 

 

Jormungand watched as his sister set up a camera in the Tower’s main living room.

“Do I even want to know?” he asked.

Erika shrugged. “I’m doing it for the Vine.”

Later, as Jormungand sat in the living room with Steve, Clint, and Natasha, he sensed his sister’s approach.

She stood at the back of the couch and held her right hand behind her back.

Before Jormungand could ask what she was doing, she quickly reached over the back of the couch and slapped Steve in the face, leaving what looked like whipped cream on his face, and then she turned tail and ran back out of the room.

Jormungand looked at the cream on Steve’s face and had to remind himself that they weren’t alone, and Steve wouldn’t appreciate it if Jormungand licked it off him in front of others.

Neither Steve nor Jormungand were sure what had just happened, but Natasha was holding back a laugh and Clint was laughing so hard he was doubled over.

Later, they went on the internet and researched what Natasha had called a ‘smack cam.’

“Okay, that’s actually pretty funny,” said Steve, chuckling. “At least the cream rinsed off okay.”

Jormungand told Steve what he had been thinking of doing earlier.

Steve went red.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - -

 

 

 

 

Erika was super-excited.

She’d been planning to have the perfect banana split _all day_ , but she’d had to wait until that night. She painstakingly scooped out just the right amounts of Ice cream and added it to her perfectly cut banana.

“There, now it just needs some cool whip, cherries, and nuts,” she said to herself, going to the fridge,

She opened the door, looked around, and frowned.

“Where the Hel did my ReddiWhip go?”

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

One of the best thing about Steve, Jormungand decided, was that once they got past all the awkwardness, the Super Soldier was actually one of the best fucks he’d ever had. He was gentle, yet rough when it was needed. He was considerate, always putting Jormungand’s needs before his.

He was also extremely open-minded for a man raised in the nineteen-forties.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” Jormungand asked, kneeling hard and naked on Steve’s bed with an equally hard and naked Steve laid out beside him.

Steve nodded.

“If you want me to stop, let me know,” said Jormungand, reaching over to Steve’s nightstand to retrieve the spray can of whipped cream he had swiped from the fridge earlier (almost anything edible on Midgard was available in a can, and it astounded Jormungand).

“I’m fine,” said Steve. “It’s not like we’re doing anything drastic.”

“The offer to restrain and gag me still stands, by the way,” said Jormungand almost offhandedly.

Steve’s face reddened as his brain fed him an image of a tied-up Jormungand, a vibrator in his ass and Steve’s cock in his mouth.

His cock twitched.

“Jesus. Um. Okay. Let’s just stick to the whipped cream for now.”

“As you wish.” Jormungand shook the can, then sprayed a small dollop of cream on the tip of Steve’s cock. He flicked his tongue over the tip, lapping up the cream.

Steve took a deep breath through his nose.

There was no way he was going to last very long.

Their night started with Jormungand licking various parts of Steve, but it ended with Jormungand impaled on Steve’s cock, leaning back against Steve and bouncing up and down while Steve jerked him off.

Jormungand made a high-pitched keening sound, bouncing in time with Steve’s strokes and thrusting up into Steve’s hand. One of his hands reached up behind him and gripped the back of Steve’s neck. He twisted enough so he could kiss Steve—not like their first kiss, but all tongue and teeth, leaving a trail of saliva connecting their mouths when they parted.

“You gonna cum for me?” Steve asked. Dirty talk was, as it turned out, a hidden kink of his.

Well, semi-dirty, anyway.

Jormungand whined again and nodded before leaning his head back on Steve’s shoulder—he’d adjusted his height, so now he was just a hair shorter than Steve.

“Come on, cum for me.”

Jormungand’s orgasm had him shrieking while ropes of cum splattered his stomach and Steve’s hand. He clenched around Steve’s cock, and that, combined with the noises Jormungand were currently making, was enough to send Steve over the edge. Steve waited until both of them were finished, then pulled his softening cock out of Jormungand and laid the dark haired man down on his back.

Jormungand whined and grasped for Steve when he moved to leave the bed, but Steve shook him off—they were both covered in sweat, cum, and, in Jormungand’s case, lubrication, and no magic meant Jormungand couldn’t just vanish the mess.

Jormungand looked like he would have pouted if he wasn’t still reeling from his orgasm. He merely laid there and let Steve wipe off his stomach and thighs. As soon as Steve crawled into bed, Jormungand latched onto him.

Steve smiled and kissed the top of Jormungand’s head. He’d never told him, but Steve thought a post-coital Jormungand was adorable.

Who knew the World Serpent liked to cuddle?

“Elska þig,” Jormungand mumbled.

Steve had heard that often enough to know what it meant. “Love you, too,” he said back, pulling the other man closer.

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

Erika and Jormungand were playing Xbox while Steve sat and watched, and Thor appeared on the balcony in a shower of lightening.

“Dad, Thor’s back!” Erika yelled towards the kitchen, not even looking away from the screen and yelling in triumph as she won the game, leaping to her feet. “K.O., Bitch! In your FACE!” She plopped back down on the floor, glancing towards Thor. “Where ya been, He-Man?”

“I had been called way to attend to some business,” said Thor.

“Cool. Want a poptart?”

“Nay, I have no need of poptarts at the moment,” said Thor, frowning slightly. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Take it from me Big Guy, you eat a whole box of something at once and _nobody_ lets you live it down,” said Tony as he entered the room. “Hey, Thor, long time, no hear.”

“Anthony Stark!” said Thor excitedly, gathering Tony in a bear hug. “It is a great pleasure seeing you again!” He plopped Tony down, who was trying to catch his breath. “Gather the Avengers! I have brought a treat from my home!”

Thor’s ‘treat’ turned out to be Asgardian Ale, strong enough to knock even the Almighty Thor on his ass. They gathered and drank, and for the first time since he could remember, Steve could feel the effects of alcohol buzzing through his veins.

About halfway through their night, Tony, Clint, Steve, and Natasha sat down to teach Thor, Jormungand and Fenrir (he promised to behave) poker (strip poker had been banned). Loki sat by Tony and watched (he wasn’t allowed to play with them anymore), Steve sat by Natasha with Jormungand leaning heavily on him, and Erika and Bruce remained the designated chaperones so nothing exploded.

Jormungand was, as Steve (and everyone else) found out, an affectionate drunk. Throughout the game, he was nuzzling and pawing at Steve.

He was also chatty.

There were two problems with that. First, Jormungand wasn’t speaking English. Second, whatever he was saying was making Fenrir, Loki and Thor extremely uncomfortable.

After a while, an irritated Fenrir snapped, “ _Hætta að tala, ég vil ekki heyra um kynlíf venja!”_

Jormungand smirked. “ _Afbrýðisamur_?”

“ _Ekki ef líf mitt reiða á það_!”

“Fenrir has a point, Jor,” Erika sighed from her vantage point on the couch. “Everyone’s happy for you and Steve, but I don’t think anyone wants to hear about your private life. And no, I’m not jealous.” A pause, then, “Okay, I lied—I’m a little jealous.”

Steve blushed. “What’s he saying?”

Erika gave him a look that said ‘are you sure you want me to say it out loud?’ and Steve quickly said, “Never mind, I’d rather not know.”

Silence fell, and the next few hands were dealt before Jormungand said anything else.

“ _Ég gaf mér legið,”_ he said to Steve while staring intently at him.

Erika snorted and Fenrir slammed his cards down and snarled. “ _Fyrir fjandanum er sakir, Jörmungandr_!”

Erika was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, and the rest of the people present looked confused. “Jesus, Cap, you’re in for a surprise,” she said between giggles.

Nodding to himself, Jormungand stood up abruptly, wobbling for a few seconds, then used his strength to yank Steve to his feet and pull him away from the table.

“Okay, I guess I fold,” said Steve over his shoulder. He had been losing, anyway.

Jormungand dragged them back to Steve’s room, where he then proceeded to shove Steve down on the bed and crawl on top of him.

_“Ég vil að þú ríða mér,”_ Jormungand said, kissing Steve’s neck. “ _Ég vil að þú fyllir mig. Ég vil börnin þín_.”

Steve blinked owlishly, his mind still fuzzy from the ale. “Um, okay.”

Jormungand tugged Steve’s shirt off and kissed a trail down his chest. “ _Elska þig,”_ Jormungand murmured, looking up through his eyelashes at Steve. “ _Og þú elskar mig.”_

Steve’s brow knitted together and he shook his head slightly—he didn’t understand a word of what Jormungand was saying. He reached out a hand to stop Jormungand from going any lower, trying to think of a way to get Jormungand to switch back to English.

When Steve stopped him, it was like a switch was flipped inside Jormungand; he seemed to deflate. “ _Þú  ert ekki. Þú  elskar mig ekki. Þú_ **_getur ekki_ **_elska mig,”_ he said quietly, his voice almost too quiet for Steve to hear.

He sounded close to tears, and Steve wondered why his mood had changed so fast.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, feeling suddenly sober. “Jormungand, I don’t know what you’re saying,” he said gently, reaching out a hand.

Jormungand flinched away, curling into himself. 

_Fenrir var rétt, ég er bara hóra þín, ég er bara leikfang, ég er ekkert, ég er einskis virði, gagnslaus, heimskur skrípi sem alltaf boðberi allt upp._ _einskis virði, heimskur, veikur_ —” Jormungand was crying.

Steve panicked and reached for Jormungand again, but that made Jormungad cry harder.

Something occurred to Steve, then—something that he should have thought of when this first started. “J.A.R.V.I.S, what language does Jormungand speak?”

_“The closest my databanks can come to translating is modern Icelandic,”_ came the AI’s response.

“Could you tell me what he’s saying?”

“ _Certainly, Captain Rogers. Master Jormungand has expressed that you don’t feel as deeply for him as he does for you. Over the past two minutes, he has called himself various names, including ‘worthless,’ ‘useless,’ and, pardon my crassness, ‘whore.’”_

Steve swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. “I need to talk to him. Can you translate for me?”

_“Certainly, Sir._ ”

Steve didn’t know if this would register with the crying—and still very drunk—Jormungand, but he was willing to try.

“Jormungand, look at me,” said Steve, firm yet gentle.

_Jörmungandr, líta á mig,”_ J.A.R.V.I.S translated.

Jormungand jerked at the sound of the AI’s voice.

“I don’t speak your language, so J.A.R.V.I.S is going to translate for me, okay?”

_“Ég tala ekki tungumál, þannig JARVIS er að fara að þýða fyrir mig?_ "

Jormungand sniffed and wiped his eyes, still not looking at Steve.

“Jormungand, I want you to look at me”

“ _Jörmungandr ég vil að þú horfir á mig”_

“You are one of the best men I have ever met.”

_“Þú ert einn af bestu mönnum sem ég hef kynnst.”_

“You’re not worthless. You’re not useless. You’re not any of the horrible things your brother, or anyone else has called you.”

_“Þú ert ekki einskis virði. Þú ert ekki gagnslaus. Þú ert ekki einhverju hræðilegu hlutum bróður þinn, eða einhver annar hefur kallað yður.”_

“I won’t say any names, but I know how you feel about yourself. I know there’s nothing I can say or do to change how you feel, but I want you to know this—you mean something to me.”

_“Ég mun ekki segja engin nöfn, en ég veit hvernig þér líður um sjálfan þig. Ég veit að það er ekkert sem ég get sagt eða gert til að breyta því hvernig þér líður, en ég vil að þú vitir þetta, þú átt eitthvað til mín.”_

“I don’t know if what I feel for you is love, but I will do my best to be the man you deserve.”

_“Ég veit ekki hvort það sem ég finn fyrir þig er ást, og ég mun gera mitt besta til að vera maðurinn sem þú eiga skilið.”_

“You are not worthless. You are wonderful, and I hope you’ll come to realize that.”

_“Þú ert ekki einskis virði. Þú ert dásamleg, og ég vona að þú munt koma til átta sig á því.”_

Jormungand was trembling, looking like he might cry again.

Steve gave him his most gentle smile and motioned for him to come closer. Jormungand crawled over to him and pressed his face against Steve’s chest. Steve wrapped his arms around Jormungand. “It’s okay,” he said in a low voice. “It’s okay, Jor. We’re okay. J.A.R.V.I.S, how do you say, ‘I think I love you?”

“ _Ég held að ég elska þig.”_

Jormungand’s head jerked up, startled.

Steve smiled at him and cradled his face in his hands. “ _Ég held að ég elska þig,_ ” he repeated.

Jormungand made a strangled sound that sounded like a laugh and a sob mixed, followed by a small hiccup.

“We’ll make this work—I promise.”

“ _Shall I continue translating, Sir?”_

“Yes, please,” said Steve, never breaking eye contact with Jormungand.

“ _Við munum gera þetta verk-ég lofa.”_

Jormungand lunged forward, catching Steve’s mouth in a sloppy kiss.

Steve tightened his grip.

Jormungand fell asleep not long after that, and Steve just held him.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Not long after Jormungand’s drunken meltdown, Steve made a decision, and he asked Tony to use the Stark Industries jet again.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost my translations. the closest I can remember is Jor talkin' dirty in Icelandic and Fenrir saying 'TMI Bro" and Jor replying with 'U jelly?" makes Fenrir say 'Bro, no even." then Jor tells Steve "I gave myself a uterus" and Fenrir's eloquent response was "For Fuck's sake!"


	27. twenty seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there's another note from my first chapter tacked onto the last chapter I put up. I didn't put that there, and I'm obviously still uploading, so . . .. . . idk . . . . . .

Jormungand looked around warily as he followed Steve down the halls of some sort of hospital. It looked friendlier than a regular hospital, but it still smelled like disinfectant and sickness.

“Where are we going?” Jormungand hissed quietly.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” said Steve, not slowing down. They entered a patient’s room where a frail looking old woman lay in a bed, gazing out the window. Her head snapped towards them as soon as they entered and her face lit up when she saw Steve.

Steve smiled at her and took her hand. “Hi, Peggy,” he greeted.

Jormungand’s throat closed up.

_Peggy Carter_.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Steve continued, turning to Jormungand and motioning for the taller man to come closer. He took Jormungand’s hand in his and, never looking away from Jormungand, he said, “This is Jormungand.”

Peggy’s smile was radiant. “Hello, Jormungand,” she said kindly. “Steven said he might be bringing you by. I trust you’re treating him well?”

Jormungand heard the threat in her voice and knew not to underestimate her simply based on her age. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied.

“Good.”

Steve squeezed Jormungand’s hand. “Jor, this Is Peggy Carter—we served together.”

Jormungand swallowed and nodded. “You’ve mentioned her,” he said quietly.

One of Peggy’s eyebrows rose. “All good things, I hope?” she asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

Jormungand nodded his head. “Steven has sung your praises since the day I met him,” he said smoothly, willing the knot in his stomach to go away. This woman was old—he could smell Death on her; she would not take Steven away from him. He relaxed, realizing she was not a threat.

Steven Rogers was his, now and forever.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

“I think I need to see a physician,” Jormungand announced one morning over breakfast.

Nobody said anything.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Bruce said warily. “Why do you need a doctor?”

The taller man hesitated. “I’m not sure, but I believe the television told me to seek medical help if I had an erection lasting more than four hours.”

Clint choked on his coffee.

“Jeez. Um, okay,” Bruce sighed—they were all used to hearing way TMI from Loki’s second-eldest. “Are you having . . . problems?”

Jormungand frowned.

“Do you need . . . . um, outside help, to, ah--”

“Oh, for Fuck’s sake,” sighed Erika. “Are you popping pills to help you keep a stiffie?”

It took a moment for Jormungand to translate that from ‘Erika-ese into something he understood. “No, I am not ‘popping pills.’”

Tony blinked. “You kept a hard-on for over four hours. Without pills. Jesus Christ, that’s amazing. I think I’d die from lack of blood to my brain.”

Loki snorted. “If one could die from that, you ought to be dead by now.”

Tony winked at him and Loki rolled his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - -- - -

 

 

 

 

There were weird letters tattooed onto Jormungand’s left shoulder blade.

They looked fairly new.

Steve placed his fingers right below them, careful not to touch the irritated skin. He traced the shapes on the skin below.

A weird capital S, a capital T with the top cross pointed like an arrow, a capital M, a pointed capital P, another M, and a lowercase t.

 

 

Jormungand woke up while Steve was tracing the letters. He rolled onto his back and gave Steve a sleepy smile, muttering, “ _Góðan daginn, elskaðir,”_ which Steve had learned by now meant ‘good morning.’

“Good morning,” Steve said, watching the other man stretch.

Jormungand caught him staring. “Like what you see?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Steve replied easily.

Before he had time to blink, Jormungand had moved and was now straddling him.

“We’re gonna be late to breakfast,” said Steve, running his hands up Jormungand’s arms.

Jormungand kissed Steve’s neck and moved down, planting lazy kisses down Steve’s torso. “What a shame that would be,” he murmured, travelling lower.

They ended up missing breakfast completely, going out to eat for an early lunch instead.

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

“I found a game you haven’t played yet!” Erika cried triumphantly to Jormungand as she came barreling into the room, a game case in her hand.

“Jormungand looked up from his book and squinted at the case. “Dance Central 3?” he asked. “If that entails what I think it does, I refuse,” he sniffed.

Erika rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on! It’s not like anyone’s going to see!” she practically begged. “Please?”

Jormungand frowned. “I don’t want any evidence,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’ll have J.A.R.V.I.S delete the footage, I swear!”

Jormungand groaned. “Fine.”

Approximately twenty minutes later Erika was _wiping the floor_ with Jormungand at Gangham Style. “Come on, Big Brother, let’s see those moves I saw out in the training room!” she teased.

“I don’t see the point of this,” Jormungand grumbled, only dancing along half-heartedly.

After the song was over, Erika glared at him. “Come on, you didn’t even try!”

He rolled his eyes. “At least pick something that’s not completely ridiculous, and I might make an effort.”

“Fine,” she huffed, going through the song selection. “Ooh, how about—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I’m picking, or I’m not playing.”

Erika huffed. “Fine.” She stood back and let him browse the song selection, and was only mildly surprised with his pick. “J-Lo. Nice.”

Jennifer Lopez and Pitbull’s “On the Floor” started playing, and Jormungand actually tried this time.

The difference was staggering.

“See, there you go!” Erika cheered, glancing at his score now and again—all flawless. “Lookit you, getting’ perfect scores! You got moves!”

Jormungand rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. At the scoring screen, he smirked smugly and gave Erika a mock-bow. “What did you say to me the other day? ‘K.O, Bitch?’”

Erika snorted out a giggle. “That sounds weird when you say it,” she laughed, browsing through the songs again.

Someone cleared their throat behind them and both of them nearly jumped out of their skins.

An older woman in a gold dress with blonde curly hair was standing right inside the balcony doors, a beefy man in golden armor by her side. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m looking for Thor. Is this where he goes when visiting Midgard?”

Erika blinked.

More Asgardians.

“Um, yeah, he and the others are out kicking bad guy as—um, they’re out right now, but they’ll be back soon. You can crash on the couch and wait for them, if you want,” she said, gesturing to the couch.”

The woman smiled. “Thank you, Miss . . .?”

Erika’s eyes widened. “Oh. Right. Um, Erika Stark, Ma’am,” she said. “. . . . I’d curtsey, but I don’t know how.”

The woman looked like she was ready to laugh. “Ah, so you’re my Loki’s Erika. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Erika wasn’t stupid; she connected the dots pretty quick. “You’re Thor’s mom. You’re Frigga. Holy shi—the freaking _Queen of Asgard_ is _in my dad’s tower._ Can I get you something? Tea? Water? Whatever else you guys drink in Space Viking Land?”

This time Frigga laughed quietly, coming forward. “I’m fine, dear.” She held out her hands for Erika to take. “I would like to simply look at my granddaughter, and how lovely she is.”

Erika blushed. “Thanks,” she muttered, taking Frigga’s hand. She turned to Jormungand, ready to ask him to turn the Xbox off, but froze when she looked at her half-brother.

Jormungand stood, pale and shaking, staring wide-eyed at the soldier (who looked incredibly like Steve, holy shit) accompanying the queen. Again, it didn’t take her long to put two and two together.

“Um, excuse me, please,” said Erika, tugging her hands free and moving back towards Jormungand, placing a hand on his arm.

Jormungand seemed to snap out of it at her touch. He gave Frigga a quick bow and a muttered, “Excuse me,” and then he practically bolted from the room.

Erika gave Frigga a nervous smile. “I’ll be right back,” she said, shooting the soldier a dirty look before taking off after her brother.

She found him in Steve’s room, huddled in the corner.

“That’s Rannhal, isn’t it?” asked Erika.

Jormungand swallowed and nodded shakily.

“Hey,” said Erika gently, putting a hand on Jormungand’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Jor. This is _your_ home—he can’t hurt you here. His words have no power here.”

Jormungand swallowed thickly. “You don’t understand,” he said quietly. “Rannhel is the reason I was banished.”

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - -- - -- - - - - -

 

 

 

 

Erika wanted to run back into that room and scream at Rannhal until she was hoarse, but Jormungand persuaded her not to, stating the obvious—she was no match for a Warrior of Asgard.

“You wanna bet?” Erika had snarled. “I don’t care how strong he is, I’m a fucking _genius_ —I can make his life a living _hell_!”

That made Jormungand smile. “Peace, Little Sister. Your earlier words are true—he cannot hurt me here.”

It took a few more minutes until they were able to rejoin the queen and her guard, and by that time the team was back from their mission and Thor was talking excitedly to his mother while the rest watched from a distance. Introductions had been made, and Frigga paid special attention to Tony.

“This is the mortal who holds my son’s heart,” she murmured quietly, running a hand down Tony’s cheek.

Tony blushed. “Um, it’s complicated,” he muttered, looking at Loki out of the corner of his eye.

Thor cleared his throat. “Mother, what brings you to Midgard?” he asked loudly, hoping to deter the conversation and draw Frigga’s attention back to him.

It worked.

Frigga turned and smiled gently, reaching for one of Thor’s hand’s while holding her other hand out for Loki to take. “I missed my boys,” she said, smiling at them both. “I know you were home recently, Thor, but I wished to see my younger son—it’s been such a long time.”

Loki looked startled—it _had_ been a long time since he had seen his mother (and no matter what he thought of Odin, Frigga would always be his mother). “I’m sure you can understand why I haven’t visited,” he said dryly, trying to make it sound like a joke.

Frigga ‘tsk’d. “You could have at least written and sent your letters back with your brother,” she chided.

“He’s not—” Loki choked down the protested ‘he’s not my brother!’ because he knew it would upset Frigga. Instead, he offered her a quiet “apologies,” and continued to hold her hand.

Throughout this whole exchange, Erika stood with Jormungand to the side of the room, both of them watching the queen and her guard.

Rannhal looked like Steve so much it was _spooky **.**_

“Why did you go for Steve when they look so _much alike_?” she asked quietly.

Jormungand shook his head. “Not now,” he murmured back.

Later, when Frigga and Rannhal were set up in guest rooms, Erika sat on the couch with her brother.

“Rannhal is not a bad man,” Jormungand insisted.

“Bullshit,” Erika snorted. “The fucker got you banished, how is he not the bad guy here?”

Jormungand shook his head. “Everyone was on edge with me—he just gave them a push.”

“What?”

Erika and Jormungand looked up, startled.

Steve was standing in the doorway, looking none too happy. “That was Rannhal?” he asked, coming into the room.

Jormungand hesitated.

_“Jormungand.”_

Jormungand cringed and nodded.

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Can you leave us alone, please?” he asked Erika, who huffed but nodded, already in on the story. She gave her brother a quick hug goodnight, then left the room.

Steve sat down beside Jormungand. “What did he do to you?”

“. . . . I’d rather not talk about it.”

Steve sighed. “Jormungand, I’m serious—if this guy’s a threat to you, then I need to know—”

“Why?” Jormungand snapped, leaping to his feet. “So you can _protect me?_ Because I’m such a _weakling_ without my magic?” he spat.

“I didn’t say that!” Steve snapped back.

Jormungand fumed for a few seconds, then slumped boneless back on the couch. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, curling into Steve’s side. “That was unfair.”

Steve wrapped an arm around Jormungand and held him close. “Do I need to break this guy’s face?” he asked, kissing the top of Jormungand’s head.

Jormungand shook his head. “It happened so long ago, but I still remember the disgust on his face when I . .  . when I tried to . . . .” He swallowed, shaking.

“Hey,” said Steve gently. “It’s okay. “You don’t need to tell me anything—I just need to know you’ll be safe around the guy.”

Jormungand sighed and pulled away. “You deserve to know,” he said quietly. “I told you Rannhal was polite to me. I took it for something else, and when I acted on it, he . . . became violent. They found me in my room, tied up and injured, the words ‘freak’ and ‘faggot’ carved into my skin. It healed quickly, and there was no scarring.”

Steve swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat. “Did he . . . . Violate you?”

“He beat me to within an inch of my life, then told Odin I had attacked him. The old fool took his word over mine, of course, and I was cast out.”

Steve felt like he was going to be sick. “I don’t want you alone with him,” he said firmly.

“I can take care of myself,” Jormungand growled.

Steve hugged him closer. “I never said you couldn’t—I just want to be sure you’re okay.” He kissed the top of Jormungand’s head again. “Just humor an old man, okay?”

Jormungand snorted. “You’re a babe compared to me,” he mumbled.

Steve smiled into Jormungand’s hair. “Yeah, but compared to the humans here I’m practically a relic.”

“Ughh, now I feel old,” Jormungand groaned, which made Steve laugh.

“Imagine how your dad and uncle must feel,” he said with a small laugh, which made Jormungand chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahh, Rannhal's a jerk .  
> Jor's tatoo is STEVEN in runes :)  
> Also, notice that Jor never gave a yes or no to the violating question.  
> Just sayin . . . . .


	28. twenty eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay for visits from Grammy Frigga!
> 
> I like Frigga.
> 
> Also, more asshole Rannhal in this chapter, but then he goes away :)

The next morning was weird.

Steve came in from his morning run to find Thor’s mom sitting in the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands.

“She didn’t even want to try coffee,” said Jormungand, pouring a cup of coffee for himself. “I’ll keep yours warm—go shower.”

“Too bad you don’t jog with me,” said Steve with a teasing smile. “Then you could join me.” A split second later he remembered Frigga was sitting at the counter and his entire face went red. “Umm. . . . .”

Jormungand chuckled. “It’s fine, Steven—she already knows.”

Steve’s face grew even redder. “Oh. Great. Um, I’m gonna, go, um, shower now . . . “ he muttered, turning tail and fleeing, still trying to think of why he’d said that to Jormungand _in front of the man’s grandmother_.

Steve came back, freshly showered, and hesitated before wrapping his arm around the taller man and reaching up on his toes to give the other man a kiss on his head. Jormungand practically purred as he poured Steve a cup of coffee, pinching Steve when the blond passed. Steve squeaked and went red again, glancing worriedly at Frigga.

The older woman was simply sitting there, smiling as she sipped her tea.

“Good morning!” Erika chirped as she flounced into the kitchen. “Who wants waffles? I want waffles. Jor, you should help me make waffles.” She turned to Frigga and stage-whispered, “Your grandson makes _killer_ waffles.”

“Is that so?” Frigga asked, and she didn’t even ask what a waffle was.

Erika nodded solemnly. “J.A.R.V.I.S, be a dear and let everyone know we’re having waffles this morning.”

_“Of course, Miss Stark,_ the AI replied.

Frigga looked mildly startled and Rannhal looked like he was ready to cut a bitch.

“Relax, that’s just J.A.R.V.I.S. He’s like . . . he’s like a servant, but you can’t see him.” A beat, then, “I meant that in the best way, Jar-Jar.”

“ _Of course you did, Miss Stark.”_

Twenty minutes later, Jormungand was preparing batter and Erika was cutting up fruit. Loki came into the kitchen first, going straight for the coffee. Clint and Natasha were next, followed by Bruce, Thor and Tony. Fenrir was last to enter, so he was last to dish up.

Frigga immediately launched in a conversation with Loki, asking if he was alright, if he was happy here. The rest of them politely ignored the very obvious mother-son chat. Breakfast passed quickly and Jormungand offered to do dishes, like he always did when he cooked. They left the kitchen one by one, until it was only Jormungand and Erika.

Neither one of them heard Rannhal come back.

“ _Still a faggot, then, Jormungand?”_ Rannhal asked, and Erika almost turned around and decked him before she saw the minute shake of Jormungand’s head—Rannhal hadn’t spoken English, and Jormungand didn’t want him to know she understood what they were saying.

She was just glad he sounded nothing like Steve—that would have made things even weirder.

“ _He looks like me,_ ” Rannhal continued. “ _Still pining over me, Freak?”_

Jormungand grit his teeth and said nothing.

_“You want it to be me. You want me to tie you up and gag you, then fuck you like the whore you are.”_

“Okay, that’s it!” Erika snarled, spinning around. “One, I have the Allspeak—I can understand every vulgar word coming out of that mouth of yours. Two, you have _no right_ to say _any_ of that. Three, if you don’t apologize right now, I will taser your ass.”

Rannhal looked flustered for all of two seconds before he sneered at her, still not speaking English. “ _You dare threaten me, half-breed?”_ he snarled.

“You’re threatening my brother in his own home—you’re damn right I dare!” she snarled right back, reaching for the taser Jormungand knew she always carried tucked in the back of her jeans.

“Erika, don’t,” he warned. “He’s not worth it.”

_“Better listen to him, Bitch.”_

Jormungand moved so fast Erika almost missed it. He dropped the dish he’d been washing, spun on his heels, and slammed his fist into Rannhal’s face. _“Don’t you EVER talk to my sister like that again, you fucker!”_ Jormungand spat.

Rannhal reeled back, holding his nose. He pulled his hand back and saw blood, and he growled before grabbing Jormungand by the throat and pinning him to the wall. Jormungand clawed at his hands, but he couldn’t get free.

“ _Not so tough now, are you, Faggot?”_ Rannhal sneered.

Nobody expected a pissed off Steve Rogers to yank him off of Jormungand and almost toss him across the room. “Hey, back off!” he barked before inspecting Jormungand for damage. “You okay?” he breathed.

Jormungand let out a rattling cough and nodded.

“I told you I didn’t want you alone with him,” Steve muttered.

Rannhal practically roared and lunged for Steve, but Erika shot him with her taser before he even got close.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - -- - - - - -

 

 

Frigga was NOT happy with Rannhal’s behavior. At the end of her visit, she gave her sons and grandchildren a hug goodbye, and assured them all that Rannhal would be severely punished.

When she was gone, Loki snorted. “Rannhal will most likely get a mere slap on the wrist, if even that. He was always one of Odin’s favorites.”

Thor frowned. “Rannhal will receive proper punishment—Father is fair in his judgments.”

Loki snorted and rolled his eyes. He left the room after checking over his son again, deciding he was bored with the conversation.

Erika and Tony were giving Thor a look that said ‘seriously?’

After having Loki ripped from them at Odin’s whim when Erika was young, they didn’t think the old man was too fair. They said none of this, however, as nobody wanted to anger the God of Thunder.

 

 

 

-          - - - - -  - - - - - - -

 

 

Steve’s birthday was coming up. Jormungand wanted to get him something, so Erika gave him a credit card and sent him off into the city to find something. He didn’t have to look long, though, and found himself heading back to Stark Tower early.

On his way back, he passed something that made him pause.

There was a mannequin in the window wearing nothing but a leather harness and leather pants, a thick leather collar fastened around its neck.

‘What an odd fashion choice,’ he thought to himself as he entered the shop, curiosity getting the better of him.

After a few seconds of looking around, Jormungand realized exactly what type of shop he had just stepped into.

“Hi there,” a woman with multi-colored hair greeted him from behind a counter, looking up from paperwork.

“Hello,” he greeted back, glad he was familiar with how to greet people now (he’d been out of practice for a few hundred years).

“Let me guess—it’s your first time in here?”

He nodded.

“Well, feel free to ask for help if you need it,” the woman said before going back to her paperwork.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to buy the leather pants and collar he’d seen in the window.

He ended up buying them, along with a few other things he found that caught his interest.

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning—the next chapter is basically PWP, so if you wanna skip the smut and continue with the story, skip directly to chapter 30. Kay? Kay.


	29. twenty nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be smut. It's not particularly well-written smut, but it is PWP nonetheless. Go ahead and skip if you want, it does nothing to the plot.

-          - - - - - - - - - -- -

 

 

Steve’s birthday fell on the Fourth of July, and Tony threw a huge party for it, despite Steve’s protests.

“Really, this wasn’t necessary,” he said, looking at the decorations and the enormous cake, not to mention all the presents.

“Shut up and open your presents, Birthday Boy!” Tony said, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “We’re doing fireworks later tonight.”

Steve liked every one of his gifts, thanking everyone profusely. As Tony and Natasha went to cut the cake, Steve was offered one more present. Jormungand handed him a thin package.

Steve smiled and thanked him. “Nice wrapping paper,” he commented dryly.

“Erika picked it out,” Jormungand muttered, suddenly embarrassed by his half-sister’s choice of paper that said ‘You’re not old—you’re vintage’ all across its surface.

“Oh, wow,” Steve breathed as he unwrapped a black leather-bound sketchbook and a set of pencils. “This is beautiful. Thank you,” he told the other man, giving him a dazzling smile.

“I have something else for you, but it’ll have to wait until later,” said Jormungand, giving Steve a coy smile.

Clint wolf-whistled and waggled his eyebrows.

Steve shot Clint a dirty look, than gave Jormungand another smile. “If it’s anything like this, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

It was nothing like the sketchbook.

Later in Steve’s room, Jormungand told Steve to sit on his bed and wait, and then he took the bag he’d been carrying with him into Steve’s en suite bathroom and shut the door. When he came out, Steve had trouble remembering how to breathe.

Jormungand was dressed in black leather pants that laced on the sides and exposed his hips and part of his legs, black heel boots, and a dark green and black leather collar decorated with gold studs fastened around his neck. His hair was freed of its customary ponytail and fell past his hips, framing his pale face. He leaned against the doorframe, his hands tucked behind him,  and said in a hesitant voice, “Happy Birthday, Steven.”

Oh, God.

“I found a quaint little shop while searching for your present, and I found something . . . . interesting.” Jormungand revealed what he’d been holding behind his back and held it up for Steve to see. “Midgardians use these to pleasure themselves, do they not?”

Steve swallowed.

_Oh, God_.

A vibrator. Jormungand had bought a _goddamn vibrator_ , and it was _huge_.

Jormungand gave Steve a small smile, revealing his unnaturally sharp teeth. “You and I,” He continued, moving slowly towards the bed, his hesitance slowly evaporating, “Are going to have a little fun.” He placed the vibrator on the edge of the bed and then proceeded to crawl up to where Steve sat. Steve watched him, watching the wiry muscle under Jormungand’s skin shift and flex as the taller man crawled across the bed. Jormungand nudged Steve’s legs apart and kneeled between them, running his hands up and down Steve’s shins. His hands moved up to his thighs, then to his hips, crawling forward until he was straddling Steve. “Tonight, I want you to have your way with me, any and every way you can think of.” Jormungand gave him another small smile before leaning closer to kiss his way up Steve’s neck.

Steve let out a small whimper and reached For Jormungand, but stopped at the last second. “ . . . . _Anything_?” He asked, his mind automatically thinking of the vibrator sitting within his reach.

Jormungand licked a stripe up Steve’s neck and Steve’s hand shot up to tangle in Jormungand’s hair. “Anything,” Jormungand rumbled, his voice barely above a growl. “Don’t hold back.”

Steve was still hesitant. Sure, sex with Jormungand had always been great, but that vibrator looked awfully big—he didn’t want to hurt Jormungand.

Jormungand huffed. “I’ll be fine, Steven.” He gave Steve a heated look. “I’m practically a God—I can take it.”

Steve believed him. “Alright. Um. Do you have something I can used to tie your hands together?”

Jormungand smirked. “As a matter of fact, I do.” He kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I want to prepare myself first, and I want you to watch . . . if that’s alright?”

Steve’s half-hard cock became fully erect at that, and he blushed before nodding. He patted the bed next to him and Jormungand climbed off of Steve’s lap. He gave Steve a look that said ‘too many clothes,’ and watched as Steve stripped off his pants, underwear, and shirt in record time. Once Steve was completely undressed, he got to work peeling the leather boots and pants off Jormungand. Jormungand reached for the collar around his neck, but Steve stopped him, blushing as he said, “Um, could you  . . . . leave that on?”

Jormungand nodded and left the collar alone.

Steve reached over to his nightstand and pulled out the bottle of lube he kept in the drawer. Jormungand held out a hand and Steve squirted a generous amount in his palm. He watched as Jormungand settled on his back and spread his legs, rubbing his hands together to warm up the lube before gently pushing one finger into himself, working it a bit and squirming. He added another finger, then two more after that, letting out short, breathy moans as he worked his fingers in and out of his hole, and when he was done he reached over to spread the extra lube over Steve’s cock.

Steve stopped him and shook his head, and then he reached for the vibrator.

Jormungand happily lubed up the toy and inserted it in his hole, pushing slowly until it was all the way in. He wiggled a bit, biting his lower lip and whining as it stretched and filled him.

Steve knew Jormungand was used to Steve’s size (and Steve was pretty well-endowed) but this thing was _enormous_ , and Steve almost couldn’t believe Jormungand had managed to get it all the way in.

Once the toy was in place, Jormungand held out his hands, and Steve used the length of fabric Jormungand had given him to tie his wrists together. Jormungand stretched his bound arms up above his head, and Steve just took a moment to look at him.

“Um, while this is going, I’d kind of like to . . . fuck your face,” he mumbled, almost too quiet for Jormungand to hear. “If that’s okay.”

Jormungand looked like it was his birthday instead of Steve’s, and he nodded eagerly, scooting until he was between a kneeling Steve’s legs and Steve’s cock was practically slapping his face.

Steve almost laughed at his eagerness. He reached back for the vibrator’s controls and studied it for a minute, quickly working out how to turn it on.

As soon as it was on, Jormungand let out an absolutely filthy moan that made Steve’s cock ache. “Does that feel okay?” he asked.

Jormungand nodded, wriggling under Steve happily.

“Okay,” said Steve, and then sucked in a sharp breath when Jormungand licked a stripe up his cock—he gave the tip a quick lick before popping the head in his mouth, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath through his nose.

Jormungand’s mouth completely engulfed Steve’s cock, the tip of his nose nestled in Steve’s pubic hair. Steve felt Jormungand swallow around his cock and his head fell back, his right hand reaching down to tangled in Jormungand’s hair. He started moving his hips, slow at first but quickly picking up speed. He tangled his other hand in Jormungand’s hair and quickened his thrusts.

He never lasted long when Jormungand deep-throated him, and this time was no different. A tug on his hair was all the warning Jormungand got before Steve was cumming. Instead of swallowing it all down like he usually did, though, Jormungand did something that surprised Steve—he pulled off of Steve’s cock with an obscene slurping sound right before Steve came, and Steve watched as thick ropes of cum splattered all over Jormungand’s face. Jormungand held his eyes closed and kept his mouth open and his tongue out, swallowing whatever landed in his mouth.

Blinking through his post-orgasm haze, Steve moved off of Jormungand and took hold of Jormungand’s cock, which was leaking pre-cum. He gave it a few strokes, and that paired with the now fully-powered vibrator was all Jormungand needed before he exploded, his load coating both of their stomachs and chests. Once he was done, he started squirming and writhing. “ _Uf m-mikið, t-taka það o-út_ ,” he managed to gasp out.

Steve was still fighting to catch his breath. “Huh?”

_“T-titrari . . . . . uf m-mikið, t-taka það o-út . . . .Unni-vinsamlegast,”_ Jormungand whined. Then, screwing his eyes shut and letting out a high-pitched whimper, he said in an extremely thick accent almost impossible for Steve to understand,  “T-take it o-out. Pl-please,” he whined, choking back a sob. “To-too m-much.”

The fog lifted from Steve’s mind and his eyes widened before he hastily grabbed for the vibrator remote and switched it off, pulling it out gently. “I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, feeling extremely guilty. “Jor, I’m so sorry—I forgot about it.”

Steve mentally kicked himself. He’d thought he was a better lover than this—not only did he forget about the vibrator, but he hadn’t helped Jormungand get off until after he’d finished; every time they’d had sex so far, Steve had always made sure that Jormungand came first.

Steve reached up and untied Jormungand’s wrists, rubbing at where the fabric had been wrapped. He laid down next to Jormungand and pulled the taller man into his arms, running one hand up and down Jormungand’s back while the other hand ran through his thick black hair. “I messed this up, didn’t I?” he muttered miserably.

He had to strain to hear Jormungand’s reply, the other man’s face pressed against his chest, and Jormungand’s English was still almost impossible to understand.

“N-never . . . c-come s-so ha-hard . . . in m-my l-life.”

Steve’s hands stilled. “Seriously?”

Jormungand nodded. “Awe-awes-aweso . . . ughhh,” he moaned, giving up and settling for giving Steve a shaky two thumbs up.

Steve couldn’t help it—he laughed. “We should probably get cleaned up—this stuff’s a real bitch to get off once it dries.” He laughed again and groaned when Jormungand licked his chest. “Not what I meant. C’mon, up,” he ordered, sitting up and pulling the other man with him.

Jormungand huffed but allowed Steve to manhandle him into the bathroom. They ended up taking a bath, with Jormungand seated between Steve’s legs while Steve washed cum out of his hair. Once they were all clean and toweled off, Steve changed the sheets on his bed before pulling an exhausted looking Jormungand into bed with him, holding him close. He kissed the top of Jormungand’s head. “This was an amazing birthday. Thank you.” Then, doing his best to remember how to pronounce it, he said, “Jeg elska thig, Jormungand Lokison.”

Jormungand snorted. “Your pronunciation is terrible,” he murmured sleepily, his accent thick but understandable. He wriggled closer to Steve, nuzzling his face into Steve’s neck. “I love you, Steven Rogers.”

They fell asleep not long after that.

 

 

 

**:)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing smut is fun :)


	30. thirty

There was another emergency situation not long after Steve’s birthday.

Erika and Jormungand watched its coverage on the live news feeds, and Erika felt sick as she watched them take a beating.

“Take the cuffs off,” said Jormungand after Captain America got thrown into a wall three times in a row and nearly disemboweled. “Erika, take them off!”

“I can’t!”

“I can help!” he practically screeched. “Please . . . I can help.”

Erika just hugged him.

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - -- - - -

 

 

 

The Avengers won.

Everyone was safe.

Jormungand was _furious_.

“Why do you do this?” he demanded to know as soon as he and Steve were alone. “Day after day, you put your life in danger for others—most of them don’t even like you!”

Steve sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Can we not do this right now?”

Jormungand shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

Steve’s eyes shot open and he sat up. “Excuse me?”

“Steven, please, I can’t do this anymore,” said Jormungand, sitting down beside Steve. “Why are you even staying here? Why can’t we leave?”

Steve frowned. “I don’t understand, what—”

“You want me to say it? Fine. Being an Avenger is ridiculous. You’re risking your life for complete strangers!” He grabbed Steve’s hand. “We can leave—I’ll steal the key back to my cuffs, and we can disappear. We can go _anywhere_ , just please don’t make me sit here and _worry_ like this!”

Steve pulled his hands away tiredly. “You know I can’t do that,” he said. “This city needs me—it needs the Avengers. I can’t just _leave_.” He shook his head. “Where is this even coming from? You were fine earlier.”

“Earlier I didn’t watch on the news as my lover was very nearly disemboweled,” Jormungand growled.

Steve sighed again.

“If you truly loved me, you would leave with me.”

Okay, _that_ was _it_.

“Jesus, since when did you become so _selfish_?” Steve growled back. “Not everything’s about _you_! And how dare you say that to me!” He stood up, truly angry with his lover for the first time since he could remember. “Whether or not I leave has nothing to do with how I feel about you, and it’s selfish for you to ask me to give up on thousands of people just because of something _you_ want.”

“I’m not the selfish one!” Jormungand spat, standing so he towered over Steve, who didn’t back down. “You don’t even _know_ those people, and I’m just supposed to sit here and wring my hands while you save some stranger’s whining brat from a burning building!”

“So what am I supposed to do? Let them _die?_ Trade my life for theirs?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

Steve took a step back, horrified. “You’d . . . you’d let all those people—”

“If it meant keeping you safe, I’d let this whole planet burn,” said Jormungand, a determined fire in his eyes.

He meant it.

Steve took another step back, shaking his head. He’d known how Jormungand felt about him but the revelation of just what Jormungand would _do_ for him . . . . .

Steve felt sick.

“I need to get some air,” Steve muttered, turning around and hurrying out the door.

He’d forgotten. How had he _forgotten_?

Jormungand wasn’t human, no matter how good his disguise was. Underneath that tall, pale frame writhed a nightmare, and he wouldn’t have any problem with watching the world burn.

He came back later and found Jormungand curled up on his bed, hugging his pillow. He could almost see the serpent just below the surface, and he swallowed down bile. When Jormungand looked at him, he could swear the other’s eyes were glowing faintly.

Steve took a deep breath. This was going to be painful, but it needed to be done.

Jormungand was up in an instant. “I didn’t mean it, any of it. You’re right—I’m selfish. I’m sorry. _I’m sorry_ ,” he choked out, reaching for Steve and latching onto the super soldier.

Steve pried him off and shook his head. “No, you’re not,” he said firmly. “If it were me or them, you’d pick me, and I don’t think I could live with myself if you ever had to make that choice.”

Jormungand shook his head quickly. “Please, please, I’m sorry, I won’t ever ask you to leave again, just don’t—you can’t—” he choked on a sob, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He knew. He _knew_ what Steve was going to do, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out. “ _Vinsamlegast, Steven, ég veit að við getum gert þetta verk. Vinsamlegast.”_

Steve didn’t need to understand him to know he was begging. “Please, don’t,” he said gently. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Jormungand was trying so hard not to cry. “You promised,” he said, his voice above a whisper. “You promised we’d make it work.”

Steve sighed. “We can’t. I’m sorry.”

Jormungand was shaking, tears starting to leak down his face. “ _Ég elska þig_ ,” he sobbed. “ _Vinsamlegast_.”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat—he didn’t feel right saying it back.

Not when he was ripping the other man’s heart out.

Jormungand swallowed thickly, still trying to control his crying. He nodded once, then darted around Steve towards the door, practically running from Steve’s room.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

Jormungand sat up on the very top of the Tower, staring down at the streets so, so far below him.

It would be easy to lose his balance. To just fall.

Everyone was right.

Fenrir, Rannhal, Odin—everyone.

Nobody wanted him.

It would make everyone happier if he just disappeared.

Jormungand placed a hand on his stomach and swallowed.

There was someone who needed him, and he wouldn’t give up on them.

He just hoped he didn’t let them down.

He wouldn’t kill himself—he couldn’t.

He could, however, leave this life behind.

Jormungand looked down at what was clutched in his left hand—the keys to his cuffs.

He took a deep breath.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

                                                                                 

 

 

 

**_Fyrirgefðu—Ekki leita eftir mér._ **

**_—Jörmungandr_ **

****

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-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -

****

****

****

****

**_“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”_ **

Steve almost dropped his coffee in shock as Erika came storming into the kitchen, more pissed off than he ever remembered seeing her. “Good morning to you, too,” he said, still reeling from the shock of her sudden appearance.

“Don’t you ‘good morning’ me, Mother Fucker—tell me what you did to my brother that upset him so much he decided to leave!” She screamed.

Steve frowned. “What?”

Erika growled and slapped a slip of paper down on the tabled. “‘I’m sorry—don’t look for me.’ **_What did you do?!_** ” she yelled.

Steve glanced down at the slip of paper.

That was Jormungand’s handwriting.

“He’s gone?” Steve asked quietly.

Erika snorted. “No shit, Sherlock—why do you think I’m grilling you? I’ve got every available resource out there looking for him right now, and if they can’t find him, J.A.R.V.I.S can. I’ll ask you again, _Captain_ — _what the fuck did you do to my brother?_ ”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat.

He explained what had happened between him and Jormungand the previous night.

Erika slapped him.

She didn’t talk to him for a month, and after that she only spoke to him when necessary.

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Nobody asked where Jormungand had gone.

Tony used all the resources at his disposal to look for him, but monsh went by and they couldn’t find anything.

Jormungand was gone.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just one more then part 2 is all up :)


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! We have come to the last chapter of Skuldalið, and what an adventure this has been!
> 
> I have at least two more stories after this. The next one, Still Not Easy, will be published tomorrow, and then what I have of the Untitled work after that will follow and it should be the last one. Key word -- should be.
> 
> As usual, Erika belongs to moi, and Tony and Loki belong to Marvel.
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me! *MWAH*

 

 

-          -- - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Erika was dressed to kill in a little black dress and black pumps, her hair piled on top of her head in a Scandinavian crown braid. She wore the emerald teardrop necklace she’d always worn as a teenager, and small emerald earrings to match._

_She sat in a chair opposite a brunette woman in a black pantsuit._

_“Thanks for tuning in to ‘Gabby’s Corner, for those of you just tuning in, we have a special guest—The infamous Tony Stark’s daughter, Miss Erika Stark. Erika, you look lovely today!” the woman asked._

_Erika smiled. “Thank you very much, Gabby,” she said. “I feel pretty good, today, too!”_

_“Would that be because of the new art gallery you’ve just opened here in Manhattan?”_

_Erika nodded. “That’s right, it’s going great so far and I couldn’t be happier. It’s non-profit, of course—I’m not exactly strapped for cash right now.”_

_The live audience laughed._

_“All profits go to the participating artists and the workers who help out around the place, and the rest goes to various charities, including the Maria Stark foundation.”_

_‘Gabby’ smiled and nodded along. “Well, that’s great to hear. Aside from the new gallery, how are things as a Stark right now? What’s it like sharing a home with superheroes?”_

_Erika sighed dramatically. “It’s exhausting. Some days, I can hardly keep up!”_

_“Iron Man is out, for obvious reasons, but is there anyone in the Tower you’ve got your eye on?”_

_Erika didn’t miss a beat. “While each Avenger is attractive in their own right, I don’t think pursuing a relationship with any of them would be a good idea. I mean, yeah, Captain America’s pretty hot, but at this point he’s like an uncle—dating him, or any of them, would be weird.” She shrugged. “Still, a girl can dream.”_

_That earned a few more laughs._

_Gabby laughed along with them. “Speaking of men in your life, there’s been pictures going around with you out and about with two very attractive men. Anything to say about that?”_

_A picture appeared on the screen behind them of Erika walking down the sidewalk, Jormungand and Fenrir tailing her._

_Erika snorted. “Oh, hell no, Fen and Jor are practically my brothers!”_

_Gabby laughed, holding up a hand. “Okay, okay, just asking.” She glanced at the cameras. “Oops, looks like it’s time for a quick commercial break—we’ll be right back, folks.”_

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

“Man, what a superficial _bitch_ ,” Erika muttered into her phone, relaxing in the back seat of the car that had come to pick her up. “She would not shut up about my weight, my hair, my makeup, my dress, my _goddamn nails_. Seriously, lady, pick a different topic than who I may or may not be screwing!”

_“Well, to be fair, she DID ask you about the gallery,”_ came Tony’s muffled reply from the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, for, like, two seconds! Then it’s like, ‘so, how’s living with a bunch of hot guys?’ I mean, do I _really_ look that shallow? Don’t answer that.”

A muffled chuckle. “ _It’s rough in the spotlight, Kiddo.”_

“I know,” she sighed. “Can we watch Harry Potter when I get home, or something? Just you and me, like we used to?”

_“Sure thing, Kiddo.”_

Erika hesitated before asking, “Anything new?”

A sigh, followed by, “ _Sorry, Kiddo. I’m calling it off—he’s gone.”_

Erika swallowed back fresh tears. Jormungand had been gone for a year already, but it still felt like he’d only left yesterday.

“Keep looking. Please.”

“ _We’re not going to find him.”_

“Please.”

“ _. . . . Fine. Look, just come home, okay? We’ll watch Harry Potter, and you can check all the latest reports, okay?”_

_“_ Kay. Love you, Daddy.”

_“Love you, too.”_

Erika hung up and dropped her phone, sighing. “Can we stop by Burger King, or something?” she asked the driver.

He didn’t respond.

Erika frowned. “Hell-o, did you hear me?” Before she could say anything else , the car stopped and the passenger door in the back was yanked open and hands were suddenly grabbing at her, pressing a damp cloth to her face. Erika tried to scream and struggle, but she couldn’t get free and everything was getting fuzzy.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

Her head hurt and she couldn’t see anything.

Sudden, blinding light.

She winced.

_What do you want?_ She wanted to ask, but no words came out.

Someone was speaking. It wasn’t English, but she still understood it.

They were using her to get to Tony.

_You’re all dead men_ , was her last coherent thought, then something hit her head and she blacked out.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

The next time she woke up, Loki was sitting with her, her head in his lap. She tried to speak, tried to ask _why are you covered in blood?_ But he shushed her.

“It’s alright,” he said gently. “You’re alright now, _dóttir mín.”_

He was getting blood in her hair.

“You’re alright,” Loki repeated. “You’re alright. Stay with me, _dóttir mín._ Stay with me. Just hold on, they’re coming for you, you’ll be alright, just hold on, hold on . . . .”

_M’not going anywhere_ , Erika wanted to say, but it came out as a gurgle. She tasted blood. She was hurt. Why couldn’t she heal herself?

Oh, yeah.

Fury had her magic.

Someone else was coming towards them.

Erika blacked out.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Erika woke up to a low humming and a consistent _beep, beep, beep_. Her throat was dry and her head hurt, but at the same time she felt lightheaded and numb. Also, everything was dark.

Oh. Right. Her eyes were still closed.

It took her a few tries, but she finally managed to blink her eyes open and look around sluggishly.

She was in a hospital room. A big one, too—one that could hold two people. She was the only one in there, though.

‘ _What the Hel happened?_ ’ was her first thought. She was hooked up to an IV and several other machines, including an oxygen machine with a mask over her face. Also, her left leg seemed to be heavily bandaged.

Oh. Right. Kidnapping and torture.

. . .

_Loki_!

Erika bolted upright. Or tried to, anyway, as a searing pain in her . . . everywhere made her lay back down.

Shit, shit, shit! The last thing Erika remembered seeing was a blood soaked Loki holding her.

Erika looked around more frantically, then she found the HELP button beside her bed. She pressed it frantically, hoping there was a nurse available. Not a minute later, a nurse came rushing in.

Erika tried yanking the oxygen mask off but was stopped by the nurse.

“You had a collapsed lung, sweetheart, you need to keep that on,” said the nurse.

Erika mimicked writing something, and the nurse handed her a pen and a pad of paper. She wrote a single word.

**DAD**

“Mr. Stark was here earlier, but he had to leave. He’ll be back soon,” said the nurse gently.

Erika paused before writing.

**OTHERS?**

The nurse smiled. “You’re quite popular, Miss Stark—you’ve already had several visitors.” She gestured towards a table near the window, where various cards, flowers, and stuffed bears sat.

Erika would have laughed, if it didn’t hurt so much.

The bears were Build-A-Bear Avengers bears.

There was also a plush sugar skull, a plush snake, and a beanie baby wolf.

Erika smiled.

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Three broken ribs, a punctured lung, severe internal and external bleeding, various bruises and cuts, and a mangled left leg.

Erika was sulking when Tony came back.

“I’m going to need crutches,” she muttered crossly. “A sling when Obadiah shot me was bad enough. _Crutches_. And after that, a _cane_. _Ugh_.”

“Hello to you, too, Miss Sunshine,” Tony commented as he sat in a chair by her bed.

“Sure, like you were all rainbows kisses and unicorn stickers when you got that hunk of metal in your chest,” she shot back. A pause, then, “Sorry, that was mean. Can we start this conversation again?”

Tony nodded.

“Hi, Daddy.”

Tony smiled good-naturedly. “Hey, Kiddo. I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I guess the answer’s obvious.”

Erika sighed. “How is it possible to be numb and in pain _at the same time?_ ” she whined. “This _sucks._ How long do I have to be here?”

“What did the quacks say?”

Erika sighed. “Up to two weeks for the leg and so they can make sure the lung stays inflated,” she said irritably. “You’re Tony Stark, though! Can’t you pull some freaking strings and get me the Heck out of here?”

Tony held up his hands. “Hey, I pushed for an early release, but Pepper insists you should heal up before any major traveling.”

“Oh.” A pause, then “Wait, what?”

Tony fidgeted. “Yeahhhh, I’m moving back to the Malibu house, and we figured you’d probably have to come with me. Y’know, busted leg, and all that.”

Erika blinked. “But . . . the Tower . . . . ?”

“It’s over, Kiddo. The Avengers are no more. Clint took off, Nat went back to S.H.I.E.L.D and Cap went with her, Bruce is off on his own, and Thor went back to Land of the Space Vikings.”

There was something he wasn’t telling her.

“What about Mom?”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. “Kiddo—”

“Don’t _Kiddo_ me,” Erika interrupted. “Where’s Mom? Why hasn’t he been here yet?”

Tony sighed. “When Odin set Loki’s probation, he made it so Loki could stay as long as he didn’t kill anyone. When we found out where you’d been taken, he went off the deep end, and . . .”

“He killed them.”

Tony nodded. “Loki’s probation is over. Thor took him back to Asgard to face judgment, not only for this but for _everything_.”

Erika frowned. “But he already faced trial.”

Tony looked ill. “According to Thor, Odin was ‘too lenient.’”

Erika snorted. ‘What a dick.” The meaning of Tony’s words finally sank in. “Wait, so Mom’s . . . .?”

Tony nodded. “He’s gone, Kiddo.”

It was Erika’s turn to look sick.

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Fenrir only visited her the one time while she was unconscious.

According to Tony, he disappeared not long after he left her the skull and wolf, and he didn’t have the cuffs that blocked his magic.

Nobody saw Jormungand come in, but Erika knew he’d been here (because of the plush snake) and that made the weight on her chest lighten—her brother was okay. She only wished Steve had stuck around, so she could tell him Jormungand was okay.

She was going to miss having brothers.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

“Ugh, my life is going to su-u-u-ck!” Erika whined as she hobbled her way up the Stark Industries jet stairs.

“Could be worse,” said Tony as he looked at her over his shoulder.

“How could this be any worse?” she demanded, finally making it up the last step,

“You could be in a wheelchair.”

Erika opened her mouth, then closed it. “Touché.” She let Tony help her into a seat and propped her cast-encased leg up on a footstool, setting aside her crutches. “Thanks.”

She stared out the window until the plane took off.

“Hey,” said Tony.

Erika looked over to him as they left New York behind.

“Everything’s going to be fine.”

Erika swallowed and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her throat suddenly dry.

Everything would be fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at that, this thing can still be semi-canon-compliant. Well, as canon-compliant as it gets, anyway. Thanks for sticking with me :)

**Author's Note:**

> No way in hell am I staying up late enough to get all 31 chapters of this up, so I'll continue my uploading tomorrow


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